How Does Your Garden Grow
by 2NYwLove
Summary: The continued adventures of Augusta Broussard. What happens when Don Flack drags the woman he loves back to New York, can they have a happily ever after with her Uncle Mac and real life often getting in the way, not to mention a homicide or two?
1. Porcelain

**Chapter One: Porcelain**

Gus' arrival back in New York garnered little fanfare, unless you counted the constant cacophony of blaring horns and other noises in the city that never sleeps as fanfare. Gus was almost taken aback. Not that New Orleans wasn't loud, it was one of the most vibrant and lively cities on the planet, but the noise there had an undercurrent of exuberance not anger. She was also feeling a bit trepidatious and overwhelmed, so much so that she sunk into a state of quiet contemplation.

Flack was willing to let her sink somewhat inside herself, mostly because he was so relieved that he had gotten her back to New York, he wasn't about to push. This may also have been because their Captain received a call from Colston suggesting Gus might benefit from a clearance evaluation before she returned to active homicide duty. What worried him was that she didn't fight it. "So you're fine with this, no bitching about how the shrinks can't shrink you, that you know the game better than they do, you're just going to go?" he asked her, incredulous.

Gus took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, "can't hurt, might help. You went. And I have to admit, it is has been a hell of a last couple weeks," she paused, "months..."

"Years," Flack supplemented, pulling her to him on the couch in his apartment, wondering for not the first time since they got back why they were hanging out in his moderate concrete box instead of her far more comfortable abode.

Gus settled in next to him, trying to not feel overwhelmed and out-of-place, trying to remember she had put all those ghosts to rest on her latest swamp tour, trying to feel like she was at home. Deep down, she knew she was home, that New Orleans was now a place to visit, the place where she may have roots, but New York was where she was planted, where she was meant to bloom. This didn't stop her feeling of unease, however, nor did it stop the memories from flooding over her. Every time she looked around her co-op, despite everything straight and clean thanks to the scrub down before the Messers' impromptu visit and probably some of Lindsay's own domestic endeavors, Gus couldn't help but view her place as it had looked three years before. How it seemed so empty and broken then, with Flack's belongings moved out, the bookcases emptied of his books like a mouth missing teeth, the living room cavernous without his furniture, her bedroom barren without his bed or love.

His place was only a modicum better, considering the only time they shared there up until this point had been fueled by alcohol and a combination of lust and anger. Flack had hung a meaningless, store-bought picture over the hole he had punched in the wall on one of Gus' last nights there before her exchange trip. He knew that Bobby could easily fix it for him, but part of him wanted the reminder of that night, the night he claimed he was stronger than her, but in reality he was broken almost beyond repair, would have shattered if it hadn't been for her, if he was being honest with himself.

Maybe she was wearing her emotions on her sleeve, but more likely because he knew every nuance after five years of partnership, Flack sensed her disquietude and wrapped her closer to him. "Stop thinking, sunshine. I thought we decided second, or third, chances meant skipping over the bullshit."

Gus pursed her lips, hating that he knew her so well, withdrawing from his embrace. "I don't know what you are talking about, Don," she said, trying to feign a bright expression and heading to look out the window at the bustling city below.

He shook his head, not wanting to push her too far too fast, but also wanting to make up for lost time.

"Don't pull that with me, Gus. You've been too damn quiet since we got back. I've seen the way you keep looking around and I'm not sure you need to be taking any more trips down memory lane." She turned to look back at him, about to make some wisecrack to lighten the mood and keep the focus off of her. Flack held a hand up at her opened mouth, "don't play coy, sunshine, you can't with me. You and I both know full well you are standing there running through the past three or so years in your head and putting yourself through the wringer. Which is weird because I thought we decided to leave all that crap behind in the swamp." He looked at her with eyes the color of storm clouds, belying his teasing tone.

"I don't know what is wrong with me, Don. I just-" she broke off, "don't you find it weird, being back, here, together and not able to really talk about what happened back in New Orleans because it is so messed up and I want to skip over all the bullshit, I do, but it isn't like we have one of those memory eraser things!"

Flack shook his head again, willing himself to be patient, forcing his frustration back, knowing that there was a lot between them that couldn't just magically disappear, no matter how much he wanted it to. A slight smirk finally played on his face, "maybe Adam can make us one." She just stared back at him, her eyes wide and serious. "Stop looking at me like that, Gus. But yes, it is weird. It is weird you keep wanting to stay here instead of your place, it is weird being back but not having you back in the pit yet, it is weird not knowing how we are supposed to play this thing between us, it is weird knowing that Stella is about to move down to the place that almost killed you, us, and trying to seem happy about it. It is all really freaking weird, but when isn't that the case? We just have to, and I know this is nearly impossible to ask of you, be patient. Give it time. You'll get cleared and be back on duty and things will get back to as close to normal as they ever will be."

Gus wrinkled her nose, "and what if it doesn't?" she sighed.

Flack rolled his eyes, speaking of patience she was sure trying his, even if with good reason. "Well then you can use that fancy degree of yours and help us deal with abnormal. Now can we please order some food and watch the game?"

His tone was enough to snap her out of her fog. "Fine, I'll order us some Chinese, god knows New Orleans has crap Chinese and you put on your precious Yankees, but don't expect me to pretend to be interested," she teased, a smile finally spreading across her face.

"Even you don't have that level of bluffing skills, I know you only watch baseball because I love it," he paused, his own genuine smile forming, "and to ogle the young bucks."

"I do not ogle, Don Flack!" Gus protested, a blush rising to her cheeks that turned into a full flush as he closed the distance between them and cut off her argument with a kiss.

There was also little fanfare for Gus' return because there was so much going on with everyone else. Stella was busy finalizing her move, saying goodbye to everything and everyone she had ever been close to while simultaneously trying to tie up open cases and help Mac find her replacement. Mac was obsessed with what seemed like a global talent search and had been somewhat standoffish with his niece upon her return. Gus was sure he still placed responsibility on her for Stella's seemingly impromptu exit not to mention he appeared to be sorting through a spectrum of emotions regarding his second in command's rapidly approaching departure. Danny and Lindsay were busy settling into their new place, Lindsay having gone overboard with making it look like they had lived their for decades instead of weeks. Gus had a fleeting thought her friend was overcompensating, was trying to avoid dealing with her trauma of shooting Shane Casey, but Gus also knew better than to push with Lindsay as the two women's histories had taught them both to shut off when faced with highly-charged emotional situations. Lucy was also keeping them busy, the infant Gus had left having rapidly morphed into a precocious toddler who exhausted everyone who spent any significant time with her. Sheldon was busy still trying to rebuild his life and credit from his ill-advised investments, and while he had made vast improvements over the past year in his financial life, thanks to picking up extra shifts, he didn't appear to have much time for a personal life. Adam seemed to still be struggling with his ailing father, his sister and her husband quickly discovering that the care he needed was greater than they could provide at home. There also seemed something different in the way he approached Gus since she returned to New York in Flack's company and Gus desperately hoped she wasn't losing a friendship because of her relationship.

Flack settled back into life in the pit, having not been gone long enough to garner many questions other than those wanting to know when Gus was coming back to duty full-time and why she blanched when Daddino told her she was back on cold cases until she got full clearance from Dr. Lyons.

"I thought Princess loved cold cases, she's like a whiz at them," Parker asked as Gus exited her Captain's office heading for the evidence locker, her New Orleans tan quickly replaced with a pallor more often seen on Sid's table.

"I think six months of working in a moldy basement and a hot as hell trailer may have soured her a bit," Flack replied, wanting to follow after her, but unable to avoid his ringing phone. It wasn't until he wrapped up the latest of the over 500 homicides Manhattan had seen that year that he had a chance to catch up with Gus.

"Figured you'd had enough of being in basements for a lifetime, sunshine," Flack said, tracking Gus down in the cold case locker.

"At least this one has power, a/c and a distinct lack of mold," she shot back, trying to keep a smile on her face as she attempted to climb the shelving unit to reach a misfiled box.

Flack gently pulled her down. "I cannot handle you getting hurt and me stuck with Lafferty or Thatcher, babe, so please let me get it, monkey girl."

"Hey, I haven't hurt myself in months!" she protested, but stepped aside, admiring his tall form easily extract the box from the shelf.

"Despite your best efforts at trying to drown us both, I will agree you haven't hurt yourself physically in a while." He kept a tight grip on the box even as she reached for it. "You could have told Daddino that you were done with cold cases for a while, maybe even explained it a little," he suggested gently.

Gus' jaw tightened slightly, she had tried to tell Daddino where he could stick his cold cases, but apparently Colston had made himself clear that Gus probably shouldn't jump right back into homicide. She looked at Flack for a long beat, debating to fill him in on the rest of the conversation with their Captain. Flack could tell she was wavering, choosing to just raise his eyebrows and keep ahold of the box. Gus became suddenly entranced with a pattern in the corrugated lid. "Captain told me it was either cold cases or special vics," she revealed, unable to look Flack in the eye.

"Doyle," Flack half-growled, half-mumbled. Other than that one heated phone call and their brief conversation on the plane, the subject of Jimmy Doyle hadn't really been broached. Flack knew he didn't have a leg to stand on if he even attempted what was bound to be a heated discussion with Gus on that particular topic, but even if the other man's damn vest did save Gus' life, he couldn't help but feel excessively territorial knowing Gus had Doyle had at least shared a spark of something and a bed.

Gus traced an absent pattern on the lid of the box Flack was currently white-knuckling. After their dinner together and the Steele case, Gus hadn't made a point to keep in contact with Jimmy Doyle while she was in New Orleans. Other than a few pat emails and trading a couple of voicemails, Gus had more or less distanced herself from Doyle and she certainly hadn't sought him out since returning to New York. She knew she would have to eventually, just as she and Flack would have to have a substantive conversation about their relationship status; but it was something she hadn't faced up to yet outside the confines of her psychiatrist's office. "Don-" she said, her resolve and voice both cracking, "I love you, you know that, right?"

Her expression was enough for Flack to shove both the box and thoughts of Doyle aside. He drew her to his chest, not giving a damn about being at work or any of Gus' stringent ground rules. "You have made that perfectly clear and in case you didn't figure it out when I pulled a Messer and followed you down to the swamp, I love you too. Now despite the power, a/c and lack of mold, I think you could use a break from down here. How about we take a 7 and grab something to eat?"

Gus nodded, still buried in the solid comfort of Flack's chest. She moved slightly, looking up at him, her eyes slightly clouded. "Are we ever going to get back, Don?"

"Thought we already were, sunshine," Flack started to joke, before being drawn down by the worry in her tone and eyes. "We'll get there, Gus, we gotta, because I'm sure as hell not giving up," he said, not wanting to treat her like porcelain, despite the fact that she looked entirely too fragile at the moment.

"Well neither am I," she said, reaching up and placing a palm on his jawline, pulling his lips to hers, letting herself not worry about professionalism for a minute, needing the safety of his love and comfort far more than she needed to be back out in the field.

* * *

Time marched on in the way it relentlessly does. Stella started her grand new adventure, and according to the dispatches Gus received from her and Billy, New Orleans suited her. Gus tried not to feel pangs of jealousy, Stella settling easily into her home town, maybe even better than she had ever done. Flack worked tirelessly through the last dog days of summer, the tenacious heat and economic downturn causing a spike in crime the city hurriedly looked to quash. This kept the lab busy as well, especially being down one key player. Gus tried to quell her jealousy over this as well, the team getting to spend time with each other even if it was over crime scenes and her only connection seemed to be begging them to run old evidence at inconvenient times. Even her steadfast friendships with Adam and Lindsay seemed to be waning due to their workloads and whatever demons Lindsay was avoiding. Gus tried not to wallow in her feelings hiding down in the evidence locker, working diligently through them in Dr. Lyon's office and she felt like she was making progress until she had dinner with her uncle who insisted upon catching up.

As if incessant questioning about her time in New Orleans, especially the extra time she spent after her exchange, and then grilling her on how she was planning on proceeding professionally and personally wasn't sufficient fodder for a few sessions, Mac decided to brief her on his staffing concerns.

Mac had narrowed the field down to a prime candidate and was working to woo her away from a cushy job with the FBI. Which was all well and good, Gus knew Stella had left big shoes to fill and she also knew her uncle would insist on the best, but what unsettled her the most was his revelation of her background in criminal psychology. Gus remained silent throughout the rest of their dinner, consuming both of their shares of wine and assaulting her steak as though it was a most violent offender. Mac merely raised his eyebrows at her in silent judgement, resulting in her deciding to skip dessert in favor of a few rounds with the heavy bag and more than a little Southern Comfort. She made quick work of disencumbering herself in her session the next day, storming into Lyon's office and collapsing on the couch.

"And here I thought we were making such good progress, Detective," Lyons remarked, reaching for his pad until he saw Gus staring daggers through him. "Alright, alright, I am listening, actively," he said, squaring his shoulders and leaning towards her.

Gus huffed, "we are making good progress, Doc. I'm actually sleeping at night without your damn pills, the nightmares subsided, I have talked to Stella four times without hanging up and dissolving into tears and I have mostly made peace with the fact that an angry widow served her own brand of justice to the monster who murdered my parents."

"Then what is this all about, did something happen in your relationship?" Lyons asked, his tone steady.

Gus narrowed her eyes at him, "nice try, with your vague open-ended question to see where I would go, I know the contents of the toolbox, remember? My relationship with Don is...enduring, we're being honest and patient. I'll let you know if I need a couples referral." She paused, gathering herself. "That just now, that was about my darling uncle." Lyons remained silent, waiting on her. "He is family, even if he just married my aunt, even if she has been gone for nine years now, he is supposed to have my back!" She voice was filled with disappointment and anger.

"How do you know he doesn't?"

"He doesn't seem to think I can function as an adult human being, for one. He keeps questioning my motives, my relationship with Don, my ability to do my job. And now, now he is bringing in a freaking profiler! Bad enough he wants to replace Stella, but now he wants to replace me as well, it's like he either didn't expect or didn't want me to come back to New York!" Gus felt a wall of anxiety crush down on her. She pulled a pillow to her chest and curled her knees up to it, looking very much the picture of the child she accused Mac of treating her like.

Lyons let her sit there like that, studying her carefully until she realized her posture and uncurled, giving the pillow a punch as she set it down. "You were saying?" he remarked.

"I am good at my job. Beyond cold cases, I like the field. I like being a cop. I am glad I went down to New Orleans, this time. Don and I needed to be separate. I needed to try to find out who killed my parents. I needed to face everything I did down there," she let out a long stream of air, "but I also needed to come back. This is home, this is where I am supposed to be. I just want the chance to actually, you know, do so!"

Lyons cocked his head at her, "how do you know your uncle doesn't have your back with this profiler, that he isn't trying to take some of the load off of you so you can focus more on your job and your own life? Did you ask him what his motivations were? While I am sure some of your skills from your previous career are useful in the field, as you said, you like being a cop, maybe he is trying to give you more of a chance to be Detective Broussard and give psychologist Augusta a break."

Gus took a long moment to absorb what the man was saying, and the logical and intelligent part of her had to agree. The emotional part of her still felt slightly wounded. A slight smirk played across her face, "cut right to the quick, huh, Doc? Guess that is why you are still sitting here making two hundred bucks an hour while I'm busting my ass for peanuts. This doesn't mean she gets to steal all the prime nut job cases."

"This is New York, Gus, there are plenty of 'nut jobs' to go around," Lyons remarked, shaking his head.


	2. Southern Girl

_**Spoilers for 7x01, don't own anything you recognize, know I need to be working on my challenges.**_

**Chapter Two: Southern Girl **

It was a bright, clear day with the first hints of autumnal crispness in the air before Gus found herself off modified duty and cold cases. Though Captain Daddino seemed at a loss about how to deal with partnering the pair also linked outside of the precinct.

"Freaking HQ had rules for the dumbest things, like how to properly order paper clips, but they go intentionally vague on this," he grumbled as Gus and Flack sat across from his desk, gesturing at the stack of binders he had waded through. "We've been down this road before, you two and I trust things will go smoother this time?" he said, more warning than questioning.

"Smooth as glass," Flack replied as Gus started to say the same thing, ending with "silk." They caught each other's eyes, a nearly identical smirk playing across both their faces. "It won't be a problem, sir," Gus intoned.

"Damn right it won't, Broussard, first sign of trouble and I am shipping you up to special vic's where you'll be Doyle's problem." Daddino misread the look of unease on Gus' face, "oh don't give me that, look. Junior was here first and his file had a few more commendations than yours. Speaking of which, don't you two need to head out to see that CSI friend of yours get hers?"

Both eyes shot to the clock on Daddino's desk and nodded. Gus wordlessly rose, out the door before Flack who followed suit and looked down at his superior. "It will be fine, Tony, she is a good detective."

"Great detective, junior, I'm just trying to make sure she stays one, now get the hell out of here," he said, waving the younger man off.

"I'm guessing you haven't talked to Doyle since you've been back?" Flack asked Gus as they slid into a row of folding chairs next to Sid.

Gus bit her lip, "it's not like I am using avoidance as a defense mechanism, Flack, it just hasn't been at the top of my list. You trying to get rid of me already?" she teased, a smile playing on her face until Lindsay stepped out on the stage. She gave Flack the briefest of nudges with her elbow. "That look on Lindsay's face seem familiar to you?" she said, taking in the distant and empty stare in Lindsay's normally sparkling brown eyes.

Flack leaned in slightly, a frown forming at the corner of his mouth. "Unfortunately it does, sunshine, and I gotta say, I don't like what it means. Have you talked to her about it?"

Gus nodded, "that has been at the top of my list, but she just keeps brushing me off, saying she is fine. I haven't wanted to push..." she trailed off as the crowd went quiet, Brass stepping up to the podium. Gus watched the ceremony unfold, a sinking feeling in her gut as Mac placed the cross around Lindsay's neck. Despite her friend's remarkable poker face, Gus could hear the thoughts echoing through Lindsay's head, having thought them herself, having shut down in the same way. Her empathy must have shown clearly in her expression, because Flack reached over, his longer fingers threading through hers. "Don, remember what Daddino said," she whispered, even as she squeezed back, drawing strength from his simple but substantial act.

"Daddino said he can't do squat as long as we are fine, and last I knew we were more than," he gave her a quick eyebrow raise and a wink before withdrawing his hand so they could join in the applause and standing ovation. "You want to grab something to eat or do you want to go try to pry whatever it is out of Linds?" he asked as the crowd started to disperse.

Gus studied Lindsay as she brushed off both Mac and Danny, and could tell by the way she was holding her shoulders that Lindsay Monroe Messer was not letting anybody into her inner-self anytime soon. "I'm beginning to think you are half goat, Flack! But seeing as someone didn't tell me I had run out of coffee, sure," she laughed, cutting through the crowd toward the car.

* * *

"Cancel that order," Flack groaned, as their phones started vibrating, "duty calls," he said, before calling dispatch.

"Um, I know it has been a while since I have been on active cases, blue eyes, but don't we usually go to the lab after we go to the crime scene?" Gus asked, furrowing her brow as Flack hung up his phone. He had been on since answering it at the diner, making Gus more than a little nervous while he maneuvered through morning rush hour.

"I should have gotten you a coffee to go, sunshine. The lab is the crime scene or at least where the body was found," Flack replied, coming around to open her door, reaching a hand out to help her up.

"Care to fill me in, and I could have driven, you know!" Gus protested.

Flack strode ahead of her, not turning as he said, "next time a hurricane hits Manhattan, you can drive, alright? And I'll fill you in upstairs," he said, pushing the button on the service elevator.

They walked up hearing Mac talking with Danny, Hawkes and a brunette woman who Gus could only surmise was his new second in command. "She would have had the elevator passcode to access this floor," Mac remarked, the barest of eye twitches giving away his frustration.

"Not last night, system went down for a couple of hours," Flack stated by way of greeting as Sid and his staff placed the body of a young woman into a bag and on a gurney.

Gus assumed this tidbit of information had been gleaned from his phone conversation between honking and telling the morning commuters what he thought of them. She raised her eyebrows at him before exchanging quick greetings with Danny and Sheldon, who welcomed her back in the field. She caught Don introducing himself to the newest addition to the team.

"Jo Danville," was the woman's response with a distinct drawl, different from Gus', though both conjured up images of fireflies and honeysuckle.

Gus appraised the older woman carefully, her smile was genuine and her eyes warm. This wasn't a fake beauty queen act, or if it was, this woman had been Miss America. Beautiful, smart and a perfect belle. 'Of course,' Gus thought to herself, her voice catching in her throat, her mouth going dry as she tried to loosen her tongue to introduce herself and keep down rolling waves of territorial jealousy.

It didn't help well Flack dimpled down at Jo, saying, "they don't usually murder people in the lab, this is new for them."

Gus watched as Jo laughed, hearty and tinkling at the same time, sounding very much like a younger version of Billy's mother, Miss Loretta. A woman Gus very much liked and admired and wished she could emulate. She felt very much torn. She was protective of Stella, and her former position, even if Stella had voluntary given up her post. If Gus was being honest she carried a weight of responsibility for that. Gus was also feeling anxious and territorial about her own place on the team. Up until this very moment, she had been the only southerner on the team, the only one with extensive psychology training. And now, it felt like she was being kicked out of the sorority house.

Gus frowned slightly, she didn't want to get off on the wrong foot with this woman. But the woman was trained in criminal psychology and southern so she would be able to tell if Gus was being disingenuous even if she used ever last debutante trick she knew. She felt a sense of panic bubbling up, unsure of how to proceed when Flack stepped in.

"Forgive Detective Silent over here, she didn't get her coffee this morning and is probably trying to not create another crime scene," he smiled, before giving Gus a questioning look.

Gus swallowed her feeling and summoned up a grin worthy of Flack's nickname. "Augusta Broussard, pleasure to meet you." Her nerves combined with her recent extended time in the swamp made her drawl come out more pronounced causing Danny and Sheldon to snicker, Flack and Mac to bite back smirks and Jo to cock her head. "Broussard, was it? Judging by the last name and accent, I am going to guess southern Louisiana?"

"New Ore-luns, m'am," Gus replied, kicking herself for sounding like she belonged on a porch with a banjo.

"Hush now, I thought I was escaping being m'am'ed, makes me feel old. New Orleans, hmm, had some good times there, as far as I can remember." Jo laughed again, the sound lifting the pallor of the crime scene, and stretched out her hand.

Gus shook it firmly, vowing to force herself to like this woman, even if it killed her because G.R.I.T.S. were supposed to stick together and even if New York was now home, she was still a southern girl.

* * *

A search of the building discovered the primary crime scene on the 34th floor at an architecture and commercial real estate firm, Westwick and Associates, and the techs quickly mobilized in processing the scene. Gus worked on questioning the newly identified victim's co-workers while Flack went to see what he could get from the night-watchman.

Gus acquired little new information from the associates part of the firm, the Westwick contingency not having arrived yet. She wandered back in to the office where Sarah Nelson was killed to brief Mac, slapping her memobook against her palm. "All senior staff cut bait by ten at the latest, seems Sarah was often left burning the midnight oil by herself, lowest rank and all that. She was well-liked by everyone, apparently didn't have much of a life outside of the office, other than taking an occasional lunch hour to shop, personal assistant says Sarah often got work dumped on her by more senior associated but never complained, said she was desperate to move up. That's all I have, hopefully Flack got more for the security guard," she said, pointing at her partner's tall frame as he came back in.

"Can't say I did. The systems were tampered with at an outside junction box and whoever did it cleaned up after themselves. System went down at 12:04am, night watchman isn't exactly Sherlock Holmes so he didn't notice it right away, they finally came back online at 1:24am," Flack said, flipping his book closed.

Jo wrinkled her nose slightly, turning to Mac, "didn't the ME say he estimated the time of death between midnight and 1am?"

Mac gave a curt nod, before walking past them all, a look of deep concentration on his face. "Uh-oh, he's doing it again," Gus remarked as Mac wandered over to the prints on the window, his face a mask. "You can't be having a House moment already," she teased.

"Sarah Nelson was murdered while I was still here," Mac remarked, almost guiltily.

Gus looked at him, debating if she should make a futile attempt at comforting or at least placating her uncle, but thought better of it. "We'll get whoever did this, Mac," Flack said, already moving for the door, knowing they had a building to question.

* * *

"Never thought we'd be canvassing this building," Flack remarked as they rode the elevator.

"Shouldn't take us too long to clear it, thankfully most people in here keep shorter hours than the crime lab, and definitely shorter than Mac," Gus said, stepping off the elevator.

"Except Sarah Nelson," Flack said grimly.

"Young associates, I just don't see it, never have been able to. Had lots of classmates that practically lived in their offices from graduation on. Attorneys, bankers, architects, all running themselves into the ground to make partner or VP. For what? Big salaries to spend on houses they never set foot in?"

"Says the girl who has to be told to go home and sleep. Somehow I am betting you were doing that long before you became a cop, sunshine," Flack said, looking slightly bemused at her as they walked down the hall.

Gus threw up her hands, "but that was never about money or titles, and it sure as hell isn't about that now. I don't have to tell you this isn't a job, Flack, it's a calling, a vocation. But still..." she paused, "did you hear she was pregnant? I wonder where she found the time for that?" She pressed the doorbell for an attorney's office.

Flack's bemusement turned to an all out smirk, "while I know it isn't the way we tend to go about things, Gus, it doesn't really take that long to-" he was cut off by a hesitant assistant answering the door.

A short time later, they were heading back to the elevators when Gus phone started buzzing. "Broussard," she said answering it.

"Why couldn't you have stayed staff psych, BB?" Danny's voice came over the line sounding forlorn.

Gus closed her eyes for a beat,"I'm going to pretend you didn't just insult my abilities as a detective, Messer and ignore that, because seeing as you are making a social call in the middle of a murder investigation where the body was found in the lab, I am guessing this is important and has something with Lindsay."

"Yeah, how did you guess?"

"Are you also insulting my psych abilities? Call it my well-trained gut or women's intuition. I'm taking it she isn't handling this whole Casey thing as well as she is letting on?" She narrowed her eyes at Flack who was straining to overhear as she paced in the corridor.

"Her therapist called me, apparently Lindsay refused further sessions and left in a huff, throwing her cross away in the trash. And now I can't find her and even if I do, I don't know what to say," Danny said, sounding a lot more like he did four years ago than he had in some time.

Gus drew in a deep breath. "Danny, you know what to say, you always have, you just have to listen to your heart. Lindsay has gone through a pretty traumatic experience and you know her, she thinks she should just bounce back and be strong, Montana Super-girl. But she isn't, she's human. She needs what she always has needed from you, to know that you have her back and that you love her and that you'll be her rock. And she is probably hiding on the roof behind the air handlers, we had to find a new spot after the smokers got kicked out of the courtyard."

She hung up, catching Flack staring at her. "What?" she asked, feeling a blush climb into her cheeks at his intense gaze.

"I do have your back, you know, and I love you and I try to be your rock when you let me," he remarked, still staring.

"I was talking to Danny about Lindsay, blue eyes," Gus started to protest, but found herself still pinned down by his gaze. "I know, Don, you proved that and then some this summer and I love you all the more for it," she replied, softly.

"You're a good friend, too," he said, giving her ponytail a slight tug before stepping into the waiting elevator.

* * *

"Time time to head back over to the precinct, Mac says they have someone in interview. Apparently Adam figured out Sarah had an app on her phone to avoid some dude named Rudy Aronika, who up until two days ago had called her non-stop. Sheldon and Jo think he is her sugar daddy, explains the head to toe haute couture." Gus said, already leading the way.

Flack quickly caught up to her, "I didn't think you were into fancy fashion, sunshine."

Gus shook her head, "I'm not, but spending over six months with Billy was like a live September issue of Vogue. He threatened to burn all my suits, telling me I needed to dress more babe than Benson. Why do you think I looked like Tri-Delt Barbie the night you found me in the Quarter?"

Flack gave a laugh, "you did look nice that night, though, from what I remember." He furrowed, as if trying to conjure up a memory from that night.

Gus laughed, knowing it was fuzzy at best. "Bless your heart, Flack, let's keep moving before you get a memory of your hangover."

They found Mac outside of one of the observation windows and watched as Jo walked in to question Rudy, carefully placing a few items on the table before sitting down, crossing her legs and putting a cup of tea up to her face. Gus nodded, seeing where the other woman was going with this, wavering between admiration and envy.

"She's pretty damn good. Box of tissues on the table is a nice touch, the old power of suggestion," Flack remarked admirably.

"I bet her a steak dinner it wouldn't work," Mac replied, giving Gus the smallest side glance.

All three watched as Jo deftly questioned Rudy, keeping the interview as light as possible, sipping her tea and remaining calm and collected.

"So what do you think?" Flack asked as Jo continued easily drawing information from Rudy.

"I think the only thing he is guilty of is lack of integrity," Mac sighed, "what about you, Gus?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, you want my opinion?" Gus replied, chastising herself for her sarcasm. Lyons was most likely correct, Mac wasn't trying to usurp her, he was trying to strengthen his team. "He's got something weighing on him, but it isn't murder," she said. Both men looked at her, as if expecting her to divine the answer. "Just give it a minute, you'll see," she said, motioning for them to listen as Rudy revealed that Sarah was carrying someone else's child. "Told you," Gus mumbled under her breath as Mac answered his phone.

"I'll be right there," Mac said, his face changing as he hung up the phone.

"What's up?" Gus asked, cocking head, taking in his expression of determination.

"Foreign blood trace from Sarah Nelson's blouse got a hit to a mugging from last night. We have another victim, Teddy Westwick, and he is still alive."

"Westwick as in and Associates?" Flack and Gus said at the same time, already following Mac out.

* * *

"Teddy Westwick has got himself quite some office here, this must have cost a pretty penny," Flack remarked as they took in the well-appointed surroundings. Gus gave him a small smirk as he took in the view and tried to resist the urge to tap on the glass enclosure housing the tarantula Mac was seemingly entranced with. She didn't know he uncle had a thing for arachnids, but wasn't shocked, of course he couldn't want something commonplace like a dog.

"And then some," remarked the equally well-appointment man who had just entered the office and was striding toward the terrarium with a tube in his hand. He gave Gus an appraising nod before opening the enclosure. Gus stepped back and tried to not roll her eyes as Westwick moved the tube of insects toward the waiting tarantula. Her eye twitching as Westwick stepped into her personal space.

"You have two offices in the city?" Mac questioned, his tone less judgmental than his message implied.

"Three actually, this one is just for me," Westwick replied, a satisfied look on his face, as his eyes roamed over Gus once again.

"So basically, you're filthy rich," Flack said, his snark making up for Mac's steady tone.

"Yes, but it isn't the buildings I design or the offices I own that make me rich, detective," Westwick replied, his confidence stopping just short of arrogance as he stepped back to take in all three detectives, "it is my wife and daughter that do that."

Gus slid her eyes over toward Flack, trying to not dry heave and wondering if he had seen the once over Westwick had given her as Mac questioned Teddy on why he thought he was attacked the night before. The tightening of Flack's neck before he lit into Westwick told Gus he had.

"I think it was an old-fashioned New York mugging, detective," Westwick volleyed back to Mac, "I had just left the Avenue Grill and he thought he had his chance. He didn't even say anything, he just started slashing. I wrestled the scissors away from him and stabbed him in the back and then he took off," Westwick gave an impatient look at his watch and bandaged arm, "the details are all in the report I gave the officers last night."

He tried to flash a winning smile at Gus, but her face remained a mask as she questioned, "so you didn't know the man who attacked you?"

"Can you tell us what he looked like?" Flack asked, flipping open his memobook.

"I didn't get a good look at him," Westwick answered immediately, causing Flack to snap the cover closed on the book in annoyance.

Mac gave the other detectives a look before pressing on, "he didn't demand any money or property?"

Annoyance showed clearly on the man's face and Gus was betting Westwick's hospitality was rapidly coming to an end. She just couldn't figure out if it was just because he was lying, which she was sure he was, or if it was because he was tired of dealing with plebeian civil servants. She wasn't shocked hen he snapped, "none, but why all the questions?

"Don't you think his choice of weapon is a little odd? A man who can disarm a state of the art alarm system comes gunning for you with a pair of scissors?" Flack's brow wrinkled in impatience and disbelief. Gus gave him a warning glance, knowing they were on thin ice.

"Yes, I'll admit it is a bit odd," Westwick admitted, giving Flack an icy stare of his own.

"Where you in that office last night, Mr. Westwick?" Gus spoke up trying another angle, her tone unthreatening, almost innocent.

Westwick didn't care. "No, I was not."

Mac jumped in, his annoyance clear. "It's hard to believe that the murder of an employee at your firm less than ten blocks away an hour before you were attacked is merely a coincidence."

"Detective, I have no reason to ignore that obvious possibility but I really don't know what that reason is," Westwick protested, still sitting relaxed behind his fancy desk.

"Blood found on Sarah Nelson's body was a match to blood found at your crime scene. It appears as though this man was hunting for something," Mac countered.

"For more than a Rolex and a wad of cash," Flack added, waving at Westwick's appearance.

"Something he was willing to kill for," Mac pressed on.

Gus tried again, dropping her chin slightly, cocking her head, "help us out, Mr. Westwick. Do you have any idea what he could have been after?" she asked, almost coyly.

Westwick study her for a beat, looking her up and down, opening his mouth to say something before he took in both Flack and Mac glaring at him. He closed his mouth, setting it in a line before coming out with, "I am sorry that woman is dead, but detectives, I was simply walking home and a strange man attacked me, that is what I know, that is all I know." He jutted with his chin as if dismissing them, "you can see yourselves out," he said before settling his gaze on Gus one last time. "You may leave your card, in case I remember anything."

"May I?" Gus said, her eyes narrowing before she turned on her heel.

"I do not like that man," Gus announced as they made their way back to the precinct and lab.

"Pretty sure he was starting to like you," Flack shot back, ignoring the look that Mac was giving him.

"He is lying," Mac remarked, sliding his glance from beside him to the rearview mirror toward Gus in the backseat.

"Like a hound dog on a front porch," Gus quipped.

Flack snickered, "and now there are two of them, this oughta be fun."

Mac took this as an opening, "quite the first day for Jo Danville. What do you think of her?" He didn't seem to be looking at either Gus or Flack, his eyes focused on the traffic light they were stopped at.

Gus didn't say anything, waiting for Flack to speak. "She was good in interrogation, had Rudy eating out of her hand. Figured out he was the sugar daddy and got us the knowledge that he isn't the baby daddy. Seems solid. For a fed at least," he added with a slight smirk.

Gus still didn't say anything, meeting Mac's gaze, staring out the window until he prodded, "Gussie?"

His use of her nickname told Gus Mac wanted and valued her opinion and was also concerned about her. "If you picked her, she had to be good, Mac Taylor only lets the best on his team, right?"

Mac kept looking at her in the rearview, debating what to say. In addition to being one of the most qualified candidates, he had chosen Jo Danville because he didn't want his niece to feel obligated to put on her psychologist hat at every crime scene, to feel like she was being taken advantage of because the department didn't have the budget to call in official profilers. Mac was trying to protect her because she was part of the team, because she was family, because he had surmised that Gus had spent her time in New Orleans chasing cold cases and demons and he wanted her to take a break and just be the damn good detective he knew she was. "That's why I dragged you up here," he finally settled on, moving his eyes back to the traffic.

* * *

They parted ways with Mac at the precinct, Mac heading over to use his lab as lab instead of a crime scene while Flack and Gus trudged back to the pit to run further checks on Rudy, Teddy and Sarah. Gus worked on building a victim profile, trying to figure out why anyone would want to kill a young woman who didn't seem to do much other than work; while Flack questioned his career choice as he waded through Westwick's impressive financial portfolios.

"I mean nobody needs this kind of money, it is sickening, and what does he do with it? Rents out three offices in one of the most expensive real estate markets and builds a fun house for his spider," Flack said with a shudder.

Gus cocked an eyebrow at him, "is someone afraid of both ghosts and arachnids, blue eyes?" she teased.

"I am not afraid of ghosts, why does everybody think that?" Flack protested, he blanched slightly, "please don't tell me you like spiders?"

Gus tapped her pen against her desk, "behind the glass of a terrarium, can't say I really have an opinion, in my house? Charlotte is going to find herself flatter than a pancake! Now how about we take a break and get some food, since we have now been at this for," she looked at her watch, "eleven hours and Mac wouldn't let me bring a pretzel into his precious vehicle."

"That's because Mac has seen you eat, sunshine," Flack replied, ducking as Gus threw her pen at him and winced as it hit Parker in the back of the head.

They both turned in the direction of Thatcher's snort. "You got something to say, Billy?" Flack asked with a glare.

"Just thinking she's obviously been partnered with you for too long," Thatcher shot back.

"Like there's a better alternative," Gus quipped, grabbing her suit jacket and striding out.

"This has to be the best shawarma ever," Gus groaned as she took another bite.

Flack laughed at her, wiping a bit of sauce off her face with his thumb, having already devoured his. "I worry when a sandwich makes you make those noises. Should I be jealous?"

Gus finished her last bite before exclaiming, "you were the one who cancelled our breakfast order!"

Flack moved closer to her on the bench, deftly tossing their wrappers into the trash can before asking, "so what do you think of Jo?"

"Why is everyone so intent on finding out what I think of Jo? I've known her for exactly as long as all y'all, I don't have any insider information!"

"I was disappointed in the distinct lack of secret belle handshake," Flack joked, not liking the way Gus' eyes flashed when he poised what he thought was an innocent and fair question.

Gus let out a grunt of frustration. "I'm sorry, Don, I know I am being ridiculous. I just thought everything was going to be easier coming back to what was supposed to be familiar, but it still seems like everything is changing and I can't keep up and now I have to wonder if Mac is trying to replace me and with Daddino threatening to send me up to special vics maybe he is too and-" she broke off, not wanting to continue her train of replacement thoughts.

Flack zeroed in on where she had been going. "Ah, I see. You know you aren't just a cog, Gus, you can't be replaced, and I sure as hell don't want to replace you."

Gus barely bit back her reply of 'but you did', knowing that wasn't entirely the truth, knowing that she would never win if she tried to compete with a ghost, knowing that she and Flack had promised to drown all that in the swamp. She forced herself to focus on the present, on the future, on happiness. "I know that in here," she admitted, tapping at her temple.

"Yeah, well tell here," Flack replied, tapping her sternum, "to catch up, would ya?"

* * *

"Finally, Lindsay has something," Gus said, hanging up her phone and heading toward the lab.

"Good, because if I keep finding more money this Westwick character had hidden away, I might arrest him just for being a douche."

"If that was a criminal offense, Riker's would have to take over the FiDi. What do you have Lindsay?" Gus asked as they arrived

"After 12 hits in CODIS to some seriously high-end burglaries, I finally found a match to the prints we lifted from the scissors from the New York State Liquor Authority. Hope you brought your dancing shoes, Gus because it looks like you two are going clubbing!" Lindsay showed them the profile of

Alex Brodevesky, owner of a club and the liquor license.

"Hawkes confirmed the scissors were the murder weapon, so take Danny with you, I want extra hands on deck for this guy," Mac said.

"12 hits, nothing under 50k and we are just now tracking this guy down?" Danny said as they headed over to the club.

"Major case was probably twiddling their thumbs over it," Flack remarked as he caught sight of Gus preening in the backseat. "Sunshine, Lindsay didn't really mean we were going clubbing."

Gus rolled her eyes at his statement and Danny's snort. "I am aware, but do you really think you two are just going to waltz to the front of the line at one of Manhattan's hot spots and cuff Alex Brodevesky?

"We do have badges," Danny pointed out as they pulled up.

"And I have assets. Keep your badges in your pants until I get us in, okay, boys?" she said, sliding out of the car and sashaying up to the doorman.

Flack and Danny watched as she twirled her hair around her finger with one hand, while reaching up and squeezing the bicep of the doorman with the other. She smiled up at him flirtatiously, moving such that he had a clear line of view down her v-neck. Flack clenched his jaw and tried to ignore Danny staring at him. "Not a word, Messer, just give her a second." Both men saw the doorman's eyes roam over Gus' said assets, catching sight of the hand now cocked on her hip, lifting her suit jacket back enough to reveal the shimmer of her badge and sheen of her gun. His eyes widened in recognition as she placed her index finger to her lips before looking over her shoulder at the pair with a wink and waving them in.

"Brodevesky is on the mezzanine level and Trey promised to not tell him he had special guests coming up," Gus said, as she worked her way through the throng of people.

"Trey, huh?" Flack said with a smirk. "Shut it, Messer," the both said as Danny snorted again.

"Whatever, just keep your assets in your pants until we get him back to the precinct, okay, BB?" Danny retorted.

They were stopped on the mezzanine level by a hostess, who took in the trio with open disdain. Gus didn't have a chance to mention Trey's name before Flack swaggered up to her barking, "we're looking for Alex Brodevesky."

Alerted at hearing his name, Brodevesky snapped his head up, making them for cops immediately. He took off toward the railing, vaulting over without a second thought.

"You're turn," Flack said taking off for another staircase in the other direction. "Are you kidding me?" Danny replied in disbelief, gaping briefly at Gus who shrugged before running back down the staircase they came up. Danny looked down, judging the distance and spying the couches below before jumping off the balcony after him.

Gus made it down the stairs easily enough, quickly cutting behind the crowd waiting at the bar to catch up with Flack, trying to not cringe as Danny toppled over a couch as he landed. Brodevesky upended a few cocktail tables in his wake, alerting them to his whereabouts. He flew down another small staircase and out on the dance floor.

"You know, if you would have waited a second, Flack, we might not have to-" Gus called after Flack, trying to keep up as they wove through the drunken crowd, "that," she ended, as Flack took a flying leap from a set of speakers on to Brodevesky's back, much to the shock of the club goers. Despite Flack landing squarely on top of him, Brodevesky still came up swinging, but by that point, Danny was at the ready, landing a quick right hook into his jaw, as Gus snapped her cuffs around the wrists Flack had pinned back.

"Next time, let me go first," she said, shaking her head, taking in the looks of amusement on the men's faces.

Gus waited outside the interview room, watching the scene unfold as Danny paced in front of Brodevesky, leaning on him hard. Flack attempted to take the role of good cop, offering up 'friendly advice' to which Gus couldn't help but grin at.

Jo and Mac slipped quietly in beside her, she nodded at them and turned her attention back to Brodevesky who was saying, "I saw Westwick kill her, so I ran, he followed me, he stabbed me in the back, he chased me right out of the building, I took the scissors from him to defend myself!"

"You never thought to go to the police?"

"I'm a thief it would be his work against mine! Plus a money guy like Westwick could make a guy like me disappear without a trace."

"His story explains a lot," Jo remarked, turning to Mac and Gus, "the plan to burglarize was premeditated, that's why the system was down. But scissors as the murder weapon? Grabbed in a moment of rage. That was a crime of passion. Two separate crimes."

"So Brodevesky was committing burglary at the same time Westwick was killing Sarah," Mac summarized, somewhat skeptically.

"Do you believe it?" Jo asked, looking from Mac to Gus, her chestnut eyes settling heavily on Gus' green ones, barely acknowledging when Mac said, "I will when we find the proof."

Gus didn't have a chance to respond before Danny and Flack came out of the interview room. "Find the proof," he said to Jo. "get him to booking and call major case," he instructed Danny before turning to Gus, "go home, get some rest, I'll call you if Jo comes up with anything. Flack, see she gets home alright."

"I'm not an id-" Gus started to protest, before Flack dragged her out toward the pit.

"I'm pretty sure that is your uncle's way of saying he is okay with us, sunshine, so just let it go," Flack remarked, locking up his desk and slipping on his jacket. "Your place or mine," he asked as soon as they left the precinct. They had still been spending an inordinate amount of time at his apartment, Gus utilizing her place as more of a retreat.

"Yours is closer," she said, shoving her hands in her pockets.

"And yours is nicer," Flack countered, but let it drop, she would either come around or come out with it eventually.

"So you believe the thief, sunshine?" he asked as they climbed into his bed.

Gus shrugged, curling up against him, "I'm not sure, seems plausible, he did own up to the burglaries. Why would he kill Sarah with a pair of scissors, he probably had more effective weapons on him from disarming the security and alarm systems."

"Yeah, but why would Westwick kill Sarah, she was just some low-level associate?"

"Pregnant low-level associate," Gus remarked, raising her eyebrows.

"What, you aren't buying the whole my wife and daughter are what makes me rich spiel?" Flack smirked down at her, his dimples on display as he rested his head on his fist.

"Pul-ease, you saw him and that 'you may leave your card' load of crap," Gus grimaced.

"And you weren't even flashing him your assets," Flack teased.

Gus mock glowered at him, "I know you are not talking bad about my assets, Don!"

"Wouldn't dream of it, babe," he said, covering her body and lips with his own.

Mac called them back to the lab a few short hours later. "Crap, I don't have clean clothes in my locker!" Gus swore as she picked her suit up off the floor, realizing it smelled like the nightclub and shawarma.

"I find that hard to believe," Flack said, handing her a coffee.

Gus gave him a smile of thanks and took a long drink, "I make a lot less mess working cold cases," she sighed.

"It's early enough, traffic won't be bad, I'll run you home to change. Though you may want to think about leaving a few things here if you plan on keeping staying over."

"Er, ah," Gus spluttered, before focusing all her attention on sucking down her coffee.

"Fine, drink your coffee, but we are going to chat about this at some point, Gus," Flack said heading for the shower.

* * *

Most of the team was already gathered for a briefing when Gus and Flack walked in and judging by the looks of them, most of them hadn't had the same benefit of going home. Gus fought down feelings of guilt as multiple pairs of eyes settled on them as they slid into the conference room, reminding herself that her official posting was with homicide and Mac had sent her home. She also made a note to re-stock her locker and to come up with a good reason when Flack inevitably pinned her down about not taking him back to her place. But that would mean figuring out the truth for herself first and she didn't have time for that right now, especially considering how Adam was excitedly relaying how Jo had used "new rules" to prove that the location of the blood drops and splatter on the cuff of Westwick's shirt that he was the aggressor and Sarah's killer.

"Is that enough for a warrant?" Gus asked, hoping she wasn't going to start her day begging judges.

"Already in process," Mac said with a curt nod.

Lindsay came rushing in, looking frazzled and still in yesterday's clothing. "Guys, new development, I just identified the thorns that Sid found in Sarah's eyes, they are actually tarantula hairs. Apparently the spider spews them as a defensive mechanism."

"Which means Sarah was in Westwick's private office in the Chrysler Building," Jo pointed out.

"So much for not knowing even knowing her," Adam replied.

Hawkes picked up the evidence envelope containing the scissors, "we got him," he remarked with a sense of satisfaction.

"With Westwick's money, we are going to need full back-up," Flack said, already calling in support.

"I'll get with ESU," Gus said following after her partner as the rest of the team scattered.

With a quickness not often seen with the levels of red tape and bureaucracy the department normally had to wade through, Gus found herself being thrown against the door of the car as Flack whipped it around a corner, speeding toward Westwick's private office. "And people say I am the one who should cut back on caffeine," she quipped as they pulled up behind the response truck and joined Mac. Flack just gave her a look, reaching over to tighten her vest before they flooded into the building behind the first wave of ESU.

After sweeping and securing Westwick's office, the three looked at each other. "Probably has somebody at the courthouse in his pocket," Gus remarked.

"Sure looks like somebody tipped him off," Flack agreed.

Mac opened his mouth like he was about to say something when their radios squawked to life. "Eagle has eyes on the suspect, 61st floor platform."

"Time for some cardio," Gus quipped as they all ran toward the stairs.

Two ESU officers busted on to the platform first, causing Westwick to retreat to the ledge, seemingly with little care that he was hovering 61 stories about the streets of Manhattan. Mac and Flack had already pointed their weapons at him and were screaming at him.

"Get off the ledge, Westwick!"

"Down on the ground," Flack echoed.

Gus paused, her hand resting on her holster, taking stock of the situation and not wanting Westwick to swan dive down to the busy street below. She hadn't expected him to go suicidal, figuring the man's bank account and ego were both to rich to have him wanting to end it all. He was a man used to buying his way out of things. "Look at me Teddy," Gus said, her tone authoritative but not nearly as aggressive as the other two currently instructing Westwick. Her eyes bore down on him until he made eye contact and she lifted her palm off her holster. "I know this all seems like a mess right now, but why don't you step down here with me and we can talk about it. Can you do that for me Teddy?"

Gus ignored the looks Flack and Mac were shooting her, but she didn't want her first full case back in the field to end in extra bloodshed. Westwick started to nod until he heard the sound of the approaching helicopter. Instead he drew himself to standing and started waving down the helicopter as though he were hailing a cap.

"That bird is not your escape out of there, it is one of mine," Mac snapped as the chopper swooped in closer and the NYPD tail number could be seen.

Westwick looked slightly surprised, as if he had ordered up a helicopter to whisk him out of there like some Bond villain.

Gus looked at Mac out of the corner of her eye, he could hire a profiler all he wanted, but she still had skills. "Don't worry about them or the bird, Teddy. Talk to me, tell me what happened with Sarah Nelson, I'm sure there is an explanation." She was yelling to be heard over the noise, but her tone was steady. She kept eye contact with Westwick, stepping forward slowly, trying to remain unthreatening while gaining his trust.

"What happened was an accident, it started as an argument and it got out of hand!" Westwick implored.

"Accidents happen, Teddy, why don't you take my hand and come down here and tell me what were you arguing about? Gus reached up toward him, ignoring the glowers from Flack and the ESU officers.

"It wasn't an accident, it was murder!" Mac snapped, breaking any connection between Gus and Teddy.

Gus growled, withdrawing her hand as she stepped back and rested her hand back on her hip holster. So much for negotiating.

"No, that girl was trying to ruin my life, wanting me to be a father to that baby, she didn't care what that would do to my family!" Westwick protested.

Gus thought she might have another opening if her uncle and partner could keep their damn traps shut. Westwick looked down below him, as if appraising his ability to defy physics. Gus wondered if he could see a balcony below and was hoping to escape or if he was seriously considering jumping. She decided to give it one more shot. "But you cared, right Teddy, about your family, your wife and little girl. They mean the world to you, don't they?" Gus said the words, not believing them even as they came out of her mouth, he had proven that with this roaming eyes the first time she was at his office, but she had to hope his narcissism would win out, that he would keep playing the part.

It did, just not in the way Gus wanted. "Damn it, she didn't care about me at all!" Westwick lamented.

Gus felt her shoulders sag, Flack caught this, knowing Gus was done trying to talk him down. "Get down on your knees and put your hands behind your head," he ordered again.

Westwick complied this time, but Gus was suddenly struck with the thought that he wasn't going to go that easy. As he fell to his knees, he glanced down one more time. It was then Gus realized Westwick had kept his back to them the entire time, that he wasn't looking down as much as he was glancing behind him. "Gun!" she screamed, clamoring for her own weapon. Flack and Mac both had shots off as soon as his piece was visible and before she could even withdraw her weapon from her holster.

Westwick's body, thankfully, fell to the side and forward, his handgun clattering against the concrete, the ESU officers jumping forward to kick it out of the way and securing his body, as both detectives had proved to be excellent marksmen yet again.

Gus heaved a sigh, shaking her head slightly at both men, Flack looking more stricken, Mac's mouth set in a straight, grim line. She motioned for one of the officers to take their still warm guns as she called in the incident. She knew protocol was for them all to be separated until their reports were filed, but she more just wanted to distance herself from Mac, blaming him for breaking her the tenuous link she had tried to form with Westwick. "I'll go meet brass," she said, traipsing off.

She had just entered the elevator when she heard Flack calling after her, "hold up, sunshine!" as he dove into the car before it descended.

"We are supposed to be separated until they take our statements, Flack, don't get me tripped up on my first case back!" Gus protested, shaking him off of her, happy they were the only ones in the elevator.

Flack didn't let go, shaken after having taken another man's life, no matter how justified. Adrenaline and fear coursed through his veins and he was desperate to pull her to him, settling on gripping her shoulder. "You didn't shoot anyone, Gus, it's fine."

Gus freed herself, despite part of her enjoying the comforting weight of his hand. "I was trying to make it so nobody shot anybody, Flack, but then Mac had to get on his sanctimonious high-horse and call him a murderer!" she snapped.

"Because he is, was, one," Flack snapped back, "since when do you try to protect murderers, Broussard?"

The use of her last name told Gus Flack was trying to create professional distance, not wanting to argue or be inappropriate.

"I wasn't protecting him, I was trying to make sure he didn't scatter himself all over the east side, I was trying to get a peaceful resolution to my first hot case in over ten months!" Her voice cracked at the end of her statement, cracking Flack's resolve with it.

He hooked a finger under her chin, lifting it so her eyes would meet his. "Like I told Daddino yesterday, you are a good detective, you don't have to be a hostage negotiator too, they don't pay you enough for that," he said, desperate to banish the exasperation in her eyes.

"They don't get paid any extra, Flack," she said, knowing full well that he was trying to not kiss her while still on the job, despite the veil of privacy the elevator provided.

He dropped his hand and stepped back, one side of his mouth inching up slightly towards a dimpled smirk as the elevator reached the lobby.

* * *

The circus had already arrived, ESU having been on the scene and brass having kept a close eye on the case given Westwick's financial influence. Daddino looked at them with raised eyebrows and a dour expression, "is it impossible for you two to keep out of trouble?" he snapped as they stepped into the chaos.

"I didn't shoot anyone!" Gus protested, putting her hands up.

"Not even yourself, I'll put you in for a commendation," Daddino looked less than amused. "Flack, you're up first, Broussard, take a walk."

Gus knew better than to protest, heading in the opposite direction of where the media was already gathering, her emotional reserves already spent for the day. She was debating if coffee was a wise decision when she heard a voice behind her drawl, "treat you to a tea, detective?"

"Jo Danville," she said, almost with a sigh.

The other woman smiled, "you can just leave it at Jo."

Her smile was infectious, Gus returning it with the slightest one of her own, "a tea would be lovely," she replied, her manners taking over.

Jo studied the younger woman why they sipped their herbal teas, noticing the slight shaking of Gus' hands, wondering what all had happened during the arrest gone sideways. Mac had briefed her on the team and its dynamics before she came up from DC. Stella had even been gracious enough to provider her with more candid background, wanting Jo's transition to be as seamless as possible. Jo had arrived yesterday morning feeling pretty steady, at least until she stepped over that poor woman's dead body as she exited the elevator. The only time she had ever been early for anything and look where it had gotten her.

In all her intelligence gathering though, Jo hadn't been able to figure out entirely how Augusta Broussard fit into the lab genogram, so to speak. Stella had let it slip that Mac and Gus were related, but Jo hadn't figured out how. She knew Lindsay and Gus had joined the team around the same time and formed a fast friendship, and Jo had deduced that Gus' arrival had something to do with that awful mess from Hurricane Katrina. Stella had revealed that she felt protective of both younger woman, and had asked Jo to keep on eye on them, to be a good mentor. Jo had willingly agreed, her own maternal instincts would have led her to that anyway. She knew Gus and Don were the only two homicide detectives willing to liaise regularly with the 'science guys' and that Gus had spent some time recently on loan to the NOPD. She had also gleaned from the way the pair looked at each other that their partnership extended far outside the precinct. Despite having teased Adam about it, she hadn't run any background checks or read any files of her future co-workers. Despite having easy access to them, Jo preferred to form her own opinions based on her own observations first and then look at what others had gathered.

"Rough morning?" Jo finally said, as Gus sipped her tea.

Gus let out a small snort, "yeah, first active case back and my uncle and partner shoot the suspect I was trying to talk off a ledge. And I was bitching about being on cold cases, serves me right!"

"You're Mac's niece," Jo said, tilting her head slightly.

"I forgot you are new, been quite the last couple of days. My aunt was Mac's wife," Gus explained and taking in the unspoken question in Jo's eyes she quietly added, "9/11." The air settled heavily between them, the ninth anniversary having just past. "I like to think I have a pretty good ear," Gus continued, changing the subject, "you aren't from Virginia, are you? I'm guessing...definitely SEC, Alabama?"

"Roll tide as charged," Jo said with another one of her hearty laughs.

"I'll forgive you," Gus said, with a chuckle of her own.

"LSU?" Jo guessed.

"By default, good Jesuit university girl, no football team. But mama went there, daddy would have been a raging Cajun except he joined the Marines. More Saints fans anyway," Gus said with a shrug.

Jo's smile grew, feeling a sense of camaraderie. "Y'all must have been very happy in February," she remarked, commenting on the Saint's first ever Superbowl championship.

"I am sure they were 'Who Dat-ing' up in heaven, they probably could have heard us down in New Orleans too. Superbowl champs right in the middle of Carnival season, I still don't think my liver had recovered!" Gus said, a wistful smile on her face, thinking of that enchanting night in the quarter, probably helped buoy her courage to tell Gage off a week later.

Jo caught her remark about heaven, but didn't press. Something about the younger detective seemed like she had drawn on reserves of strength for some time and was trying desperately to replenish them. "You tried to talk Westwick down, you used to be a psychologist, right?" Jo said, her gaze still intense.

Gus ran her finger around the edge of her cup, "guess I always will be," she remarked, "just trying to use all the tools in my toolbox." Something in Jo's expression made Gus feel instantly comfortable, like she was catching up with an old friend. She wasn't sure if it was a southern thing, or the talk of football or the nurturing gleam in Jo's eyes. Or maybe it was her anger at Mac or her uncertainty in her relationship with Don or her frustration at herself for not being able to let sleeping dogs lie. Whatever it was Gus found herself admitting, "I wasn't exactly ready to bake you a bundt cake, Jo Danville. When Mac told me he was hiring a profiler, I was pretty sure that was just a nice way of him telling me not to let the screen door hit me where the Lord split me."

Jo gave a slight smirk at the other woman's candor. "I'm not a profiler, Gus, I'm a criminalist first. I might have some training and a few years of experience in dealing with people and a knack for knowing what makes 'em tick. Pretty sure you've got that in spades, as well, I just happen to have a few years on you. I am not trying to take anybody's place on the team, not Stella's and certainly not yours. Mac values your opinion and respects you, and like the rest of his team he is concerned about you."

"You got all that from one case?" Gus joked.

"We've talked for months," Jo replied, "now speaking of Mac Taylor, I'm going to see how my boss is doing."

"I'm sure he is faring just fine," Gus said, raising along with the other woman, "thanks for the tea."

"No problem, maybe later we can imbibe in something stronger and talk smack about Auburn?" Jo suggested warmly.

"You're on," Gus said, heading over to where Daddino was gesturing for her to give her statement.


	3. Misunderstood

**Chapter 3: Misunderstood**

Flack was leaning against the car, waiting on Gus as she finished giving her statement to Daddino. She attempted to keep her contempt for her uncle undermining her out of her statement, though she knew her superior could read between the lines.

"You've earned your keep, Broussard, it is your career. You don't want to keep working with the crime lab, you don't have to. And I know for a fact Special Vics would love to have you," Daddino said, massacring an innocent toothpick with his incisors.

Gus was struck silent with panic, as frustrated as she was with Mac, he was still her family and the reason she was here, not to mention she was acutely aware that she worked best with Flack, on and off the job.

Daddino took her silence for contemplation. "Though I would like to keep you in homicide, my numbers look a hell of a lot better when you and junior are kicking ass and taking names. Now get out of here and get started on the mountain of paperwork waiting on yous."

"Hell of a first case back, huh, sunshine?" Flack asked, opening her door for her, his mouth set in a grim line.

Gus knew that having to shoot Westwick was weighing heavily on his conscience. She merely nodded in reply, feeling suddenly spent and unsure of what to say to him, knowing that he wouldn't want her to placate him.

The pit went quiet as they arrived, word already having gotten out about their exploits at the Chrysler building. Their fellow detectives watched them carefully, all thinking back on the heavy times they had to or almost had to fire their service weapons, knowing the decision was often made in a reflexive split-second. They had also heard about Gus' trying to talk the perp down and could tell by her expression she was taking the result as a failure, as was Flack. "It was a good shoot, Flack" Parker said as soon as they sat down at their desks.

"No such thing, Parker," Flack replied, letting out a burst of air.

"Heard you tried to do good too, princess," Parker said, trying to lighten their moods.

"Tried being the operative word, failed being the reality, but thanks," Gus said, giving him a false smile.

"I'm out," Parker said to the pit, raising his hands in mock surrender. Everyone else just shook their heads, leaving Gus and Flack to wade through the stacks of paperwork.

Seemingly hours later, Daddino arrived at their desks, placing Flack's service piece down and stating, "it was ruled justified, Flack." He studied both faces looking up at him, not liking what he was seeing, he had looked forward to having his dream team back together. "You did your best, Broussard, don't take it personally. Welcome back. Now both of you get out of here and try to not come in tomorrow looking like someone pissed in your corn flakes, okay?" He stood there staring them both down until they nodded and started gathering up their belongings.

Neither spoke until they reached the car and Gus reached for the handle somewhat hesitantly. Flack closed his eyes for a long beat before saying, "can we please go back to your place?"

His despondent expression was enough for Gus to forget her apprehension about spending time there. "Sure," she said, trying to put a smile on her face, "you want me to cook us dinner?" He nodded, his eyes lightening a bit.

With Flack settled in on her sofa with a beer and the remote, Gus moved around her kitchen trying to convey a sense of normalcy, realizing that is what they both needed at the moment. Comfort, familiarity, ordinariness. "Fake it 'til you make it," she muttered, chopping vegetables.

"What's that?" Flack asked from the doorway, his rapidly drained beer bottle in one hand.

"How's your sister doing?" Gus asked, realizing she hadn't really gotten much information on Flack's family, even when she asked after them in New Orleans.

Flack shrugged, "dunno, fine I guess. You know Sam, no news is good news. She hasn't called wanting anything and Grams hasn't said anything about her. Who is also fine before you ask. She told me to tell you she's glad you are back and she hopes it is for good this time." He looked Gus carefully, "gotta say, I agree with her."

Gus paused in her preparations, setting the knife carefully down on the cutting board before turning to face him. "Don, I'm back. You can tell Irene I'm not going anywhere. Unless you are planning on taking me on vacation somewhere that I don't know about," she said with a smile, covering the short distance between them in her tiny kitchen and placing her palm against his face.

He turned his face into her hand, giving it a slight nuzzle before saying, "regular laugh riot, Broussard."

Gus removed her hand and made her way back to the cutting board, expecting that Flack would grab another beer and head back to the sofa. So she jumped slightly when he said, "sometimes I feel like not all of you came back."

This time she didn't turn around, her knife hovering above a bell pepper. Gus wasn't sure how to respond. For as much as she thought she had solved and laid to rest over the past eight or so months, there still seemed to be something hanging over her, them. "I don't know what to say here, Don, I feel like I dealt with so much down in the swamp and I thought it was everything. I thought coming back here was going to be easy, like a fresh start but..." she trailed off, chopping at the pepper in frustration.

"But what and please be careful sunshine, you don't have the best record with knives," Flack said, coming up beside her, hoping she would turn to face him.

"I feel like I don't know where I stand. I don't know where I stand with you, where we stand as a couple. I feel like I don't know where I stand at work, especially now that Mac brought Jo in. I feel like I have no idea what the future holds!" she cried in frustration, dropping the knife to the counter.

Flack pondered her words, unsure of how to reply, chewing on the inside of his lip. "Nobody knows, Gus, we ain't psychics." See her wrinkle her nose in response he continued, "you stand beside me, sunshine, like before, in and out of the field. You're a great detective and we had a crap case, what else is new? As for Mac hiring Jo, I think she's a good addition, and look at it this way, Mac now has someone reporting directly to him to do all that mumbo jumbo stuff so he can't put it all off on you. And maybe Danny will stop making fun of you every time you say y'all now."

"Maybe that is all true, but why does it feel so weird?" she protested.

Flack fought the urge to smirk, "you already answered your own question, Gus, you dealt with a lot down in the swamp, before that even. We've dealt with a lot over the past couple of years, we can't just snap our fingers and expect everything to be fine. Give it some time, give it some work and, above all, remember that I love you and I've got your back. What was it you said to Danny? Let me be your rock, alright?" It was his turn to cup her face, though he drew her in for a kiss. When he broke off her did give in to smirking at her, "how about you relinquish that knife before you cut a finger off and let me help cook dinner?"

Tucked in at Flack's side and watching something brainless, Gus let out a small groan when her phone started buzzing. It grew larger when she saw her uncle's number on the screen. Flack raised his eyebrows and handed her the phone, pointing toward her office, silently insisting she take it. She pursed her lips but stalked toward the other room, answering it with a sigh. "Hey, Mac."

"Gussie," came his weary, and slightly terse reply.

Gus took his use of her nickname as an olive branch, but wasn't sure why he was sounding disgruntled, considering he had called her. She waited for him to speak again.

"I know you don't like how things were handled today," he said, finally.

Gus bit back a hundred acrid responses, noting that Mac wasn't taking any responsibility. "The end result was less than ideal," was what she finally settled on.

Mac passed his palm over his face, knowing his niece's anger and not wanting to spark it, though pleasantly surprised she had held back. "You aren't a hostage negotiator."

"Have you been talking to Don?" Gus replied, "I know, but I just thought I saw a different resolution and decided to go with it." She left the part about him royally messing up her plan hovering in her tone.

"We can't see the future, Gussie, nobody knows what Westwick would have done, he had a gun!"

Gus mused it really did seem like Mac and Don were of the same brain at times, she let out a small snort. "I am acutely aware of both of those facts, Uncle Mac, a shootout on a rooftop was not really my idea of a perfect first case back!" Gus paused, trying to keep her emotions in check, knowing anger wasn't productive in this instance. "Do you not trust me?" she asked finally, meaning far more than just what happened with Westwick.

"What kind of question is that?" Mac replied, trying to interpret her tone.

"The kind you just side-stepped," Gus retorted. Gus insecurity collided with her anger and erupted in a stream."I mean, you've barely acknowledge by existence except for one interrogation session since I got back, you undermined me on the job and you hired a freaking profiler, making me practically redundant on your team. I can only interpret that as you not trusting me or not thinking I am competent, regardless of what Dr. Lyons or Flack or anyone else has to say about it!"

"So this is about Jo?"

Gus growled, "no, it is about me, your niece, part of your team and your family, Mac! You talk about only hiring the best, only working with those your trust and then you pull what you did today and-well, yes, this is a little about Jo!" Gus slumped in the chair at her desk, hating sounding like a sullen teenager with him.

Mac shook his head sadly, his intentions once again misunderstood by his niece. "Augusta, listen to me. I brought you to New York five years ago because you are my family and I wanted you safe. I got you a job with the NYPD because I do trust you and you are good at what you do, whether that is being a psychologist or a detective. I hired Jo because I wanted to give you a chance to decide what it was you wanted to be, so you would have more options professionally based on your personal decisions. I also hired Jo because she was the best candidate and has a great track record and because Stella thought I could trust her. As for today, I wasn't trying to undermine you, I was trying to keep us safe and put a murderer away. As I said, you are not a negotiator, unless you want to transfer to ESU, and I did not think the situation or Westwick warranted one. I am not going to debate this matter further with you. I was calling to see how you were doing and to tell you to not blame yourself for what happened today, Westwick made his own choices and we did what we had to do. All of us. I also wanted to see if you and Don would be able to come over for dinner Sunday." Mac's tone lightened the more he talked.

Gus drew herself to sitting up straight, wondering about this latest invitation and what her uncle's motives may be. "As my partner or boyfriend?" she asked, seeing Flack sit up and peer into the office, his expression extremely curious.

Gus could hear the smirk in Mac's voice. "As however you wish to define it, Augusta, I am having the team over, to welcome Jo to New York."

"Oh," she replied, flushing slightly, embarrassed at her assumption that Mac was going to corner them both to warn them about the dangers of workplace romance for the umpteenth time. "Yeah, probably, baring call-outs..." she trailed off, not having to explain their hectic schedules to a man who spent most of his multitude of waking hours between the lab and crime scenes.

"Good, tell Flack to bring a couple of bottles of wine," Mac said, his tone still light.

"Will do, what about me?" she asked.

Mac's smirk turned into a full grin, "I know you Gussie, you'll bring something delicious."

"No pressure, there. See you Sunday and try to take a day off, would you?"

"So?" Flack asked as soon as she settled back down on the sofa. Gus mumbled something. "What was that, babe?"

"You were right, Mac hired Jo to take some of the pressure off me, though I still think it was underhanded because he doesn't think I should be working with you, but whatever. Also, our presence has been requested at Sunday dinner, it's a team welcome Jo thing. You're bringing wine, by the way."

"Am I now? So that's what the boyfriend thing was about." He smiled to himself.

Gus poked him in the side, "yes, and what's that smile for?"

"Nothing," Flack replied, "just don't think I've ever heard you call me your boyfriend before, and certainly not to your uncle."

"Because we aren't in high school, Don. Gee, do I get to wear your letterman's jacket now that we are going steady?" she said, snickering as she poked him a couple of more times.

He grabbed her hand, pulling her over on his lap, "stop that, would ya? You sure you didn't have siblings? And I call you my girlfriend."

"To who?" she said straddling him and rolling her eyes.

"People," he said, wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her closer.

"Where are these people? The team knows were together, I'm pretty sure the pit figured that out when you flew down to New Orleans, I'm certain your family has realized we are back together, so just what people are you calling me your girlfriend to?" Gus' kept her tone teasing, but was intensely interested in his answer. While she did think such labels were juvenile for two people who has left their twenties behind, she had been unsettled by their relationship not having defined boundaries, not to mention she still had a gnawing sense of concern over where they stood and where their relationship was headed.

"Stop being difficult, Broussard! If there were people, I would say you were my girlfriend, alright? Just exactly how would you introduce me?"

"I usually say, this is my partner, Detective Fla-" she was interrupted by him standing, forcing her to wrap her legs around his waist to not fall, "Don!" she exclaimed, before being cut off once again by his heated kiss as he walked them to her bedroom.

Flack looked over at Gus, paused in front of Mac's door, her first stopping short of knocking, moving instead to tug down the hem of her dress and then smoothing over her hair, all while teetering on high-heels she had dug out from the back of her closet. He moved to her side, grabbing the glass dish from her free hand before she dropped the still warm bread pudding she refused to let him sample when she pulled it from the oven right before they left. "You aren't nervous there, are you sunshine?" he asked with a smirk.

"Nervous, why would I be nervous, Don?" she replied, looking every bit the nervous she claimed she wasn't.

"I'm just saying-" he said, his sentence cut off by the door swinging open as Mac looked at both of them with a cocked head.

"You two want to come in or do you want to just stand in my hallway?" he asked.

"In, definitely in," Gus said, hitching the tote on her shoulder and striding in purposefully, as if on a mission and not attending a welcome dinner.

Mac raised his eyebrows at Flack, who shrugged and said, "don't ask me," following in behind her.

"Whoa, Gus you look-" Adam exclaimed as she made her way in, rising quickly from the chair next to the sofa Jo was already seated on, grateful to have someone else for the newest member of the team to interrogate instead of him. Of course Sheldon and Danny got called out on a case and Lindsay cancelled not wanting to pay a babysitter for only her to come.

"I would carefully consider how you finish that sentence," Gus warned as she pulled the wine Flack had bough from her tote.

"Different, but nice, definitely nice," he said, taking in her very un-businesslike dress, growing flustered as he looked at the bemused Flack standing next to her and Mac who was shaking his head behind them.

"I'm glad to hear you don't wear four-inch heels in the field," Jo drawled, having risen from the sofa silently, causing Adam to jump slightly.

Gus looked at everyone else, realizing she had overdressed for the occasion and inwardly kicked herself for her unease at Jo's arrival, she had just wanted to make an effort especially after behaving like such a child earlier. She took a large intake of breath, grateful when Flack deftly opened a bottle of wine and started pouring glasses, leaning in as he handed her one saying, "you look gorgeous," and kissed her.

She caught Jo looking at them with a slight smile on her face. "Busted," Flack said, dimpling down at her.

"So how exactly does that work?" Jo asked, "with you two being partners?" She forced her face to remain a blank mask, also forcing herself to not think about her ex-husband whom she had worked with at the FBI.

"Not you too," Gus groaned, looking over at Mac who was shaking his head.

"I didn't say anything," Mac replied, lifting his hands up in mock surrender.

Adam stood there fidgeting with his wine glass, feeling very much like a random fifth wheel, but secretly relieved the spotlight was off him. Something about Jo Danville very much unnerved him, but he couldn't put his finger on it.

Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Sid, who thankfully brought more wine, and the oven timer buzzing. The rest of the evening was filled with merriment and trading stories of crazy cases from both the NYPD and FBI, as well as Jo telling humorous stories from her childhood in Alabama, which the rest of the team had trouble believing until Gus verified their plausibility. It was late, and Gus was sure morning would come too quickly and was already regretting her last couple of glasses of wine as she teetered toward the car. She shivered, thankful when Flack pulled her close, the night air crisp with a distinct autumn chill.

"That's what you get for barely wearing any clothes," he teased, opening her door for her.

"Very funny, Don," she said, mock scowling at him as she slid in, kicking off her shoes the second he shut her door.

He smirked at her are bare feet before slipping out of his jacket and handing it to her. "Here," he said, his smirk spreading to a full smile as she curled up underneath it. "Wimp," he teased, wincing as she landed a playful punch on his arm, "hey, I can make you toddle home, ya know!"

"You wouldn't!" Gus admonished, drawing back in slight fear.

"Nah," Flack pursed his lips, "not letting out alone dressed like that."

"Yes, I get it, I am over or underdressed, it's just, I...Billy sent me home with a new wardrobe and I can't wear it at work and I was just trying to...you don't know what it is like with Southern women and..." Gus felt herself tripping over her own tongue, feeling very much like Adam had looked earlier.

"Gussie, chill, I meant what I said, you look gorgeous, I just wish you dressed up for me, that's all," Flack finally admitted, his focus intent on the road in front of them, his jaw slightly clenched after his admission.

Gus' mouth popped open in an 'O' of surprise. Flack always seemed so easygoing and while there was that little dalliance with that awful prima donna, he always seemed to be more attracted to more down to earth women. And she had dressed up for him...Gus paused thinking back, realizing she hadn't really dressed up for him, just him and not an event or party or fundraiser since that one odd date they went on back in the earlier days and that had been years ago. Had she become one of those complaisant women who takes things for granted? She prayed she hadn't she had lost him once and that had nearly killed her...she let out a small growl of frustration.

Flack responded by slinging the car over to the curb, ignoring the angry honking behind them, though luckily traffic was fairly light this late on a Sunday night. He turned to Gus, smoothing his thumb over her wrinkled brow. "Sunshine, I didn't mean it like that. I meant, I sometimes wish we could just have normal jobs and go out like on dates, like regular Joes, instead of not even bothering to make plans because we know we would most likely have to cancel them. I wasn't trying to make you feel bad, so stop it." He rested his forehead against hers, staring at her until her eyes lost their look of worry.

Gus could feel her concerns disappearing at his touch, but she also understood what he meant. How many tickets to events had they both ended up throwing out? How many times had she ended up taking Lindsay or Stella or Adam to something she had originally meant for them to go to? And it wasn't just them, she knew Danny had called Don up last-minute on plenty of occasions as well because Lindsay was stuck in the lab or they couldn't get a babysitter. Being in a relationship wasn't easy under most circumstances, but being on the job and in a relationship with someone else on the job added an extra layer of difficulty. But he was worth it and then some. "Do you have an idea how much I love you, Don Flack?" she asked, her hands finding his face, her lips finding his...

They only broke apart when a somewhat familiar sound rapped against her window. Flack broke off their kiss, snorting slightly and saying for the second time that night, "busted." Gus turned to see the uniform shining his Maglite in the window he had just rapped on and gesturing for them to roll down the window.

"You can't park here, street cleaners are coming," the uniform said, looking into the car and spying Gus' shoes and Flack's jacket on the floor board, her dress clearly disheveled as she fought to get it back in place upon realizing just how much skin she was showing. Flack couldn't help but smirk as Gus slunk low in her seat and turned crimson, her mortification clear. "Everything okay, miss?" he asked Gus as she dropped her head into her hands.

"Mfrn" she mumbled into her palms. "She just had a little too much wine with dinner, Officer, I'm taking her home now," Flack said, flashing his shield to the uniform.

The uniform nodded appreciatively, though Flack wasn't sure if it was at his credentials or Gus, alright then, drive safe, Detective," he said, patting the roof of the car before striding away.

Flack pulled away from the curb, still smirking as Gus collected herself. "That was ridiculous, we are over 30, Flack!" she admonished, still feeling embarrassed.

"As I was saying, Broussard, if you dressed up more, maybe we wouldn't get caught making out on the side of the road," Flack chided playfully.

"Fine, point made," she grumbled, pulling out her phone and checking their schedules. "We are off Thursday, what about Wednesday night date night? Not as conventional as Saturday, but as you pointed out, we should take what we can get."

Flack nodded, "agreed, Wednesday night date night it is, do you want me to make reservations?"

"If you want, but I am not dressing up to eat anything with my hands!" Gus warned.

"You wound me, babe," Flack said, pulling up in front of her place.

Gus looked at him curiously, wondering why he wasn't illegally parking out front, much to the consternation of both her doorman and the elderly president of the co-op board that only let him get away with it because she was smitten with the tall, handsome detective. "Are you coming up?" she asked, her voice catching slightly in her throat. He had seemed so desperately to stay at her place after their last case and she had been quickly reminded how much she enjoyed him being there and how much more comfortable it was than his rather grotty apartment.

"No clean clothes, Gus, that's all, promise," Flack said, leaning over and giving her a quick kiss, "you want me to pick you up for shift?"

Gus nodded, trying to not read anything into the situation, her head still fuzzy from the wine though her body was still buzzing from their interrupted make-out session. "Sweet dreams, blue eyes, love you."

"Back at you, sunshine, now try to not flash Eduardo getting out of the car," he said with a laugh.

Gus tried, and failed, to glare at him, while extracting herself from the car as ladylike as possible, that didn't stop the doorman from whistling at her as he opened the door for her. "Looking good, Miss Broussard." "Thanks, Eduardo," she said, rolling her eyes as she called for the elevator, thinking maybe it was better she didn't dress up very often.

Three nights later Gus had one eye on the clock and the other on her computer monitor as she hurriedly worked on writing up the final bit of a report on their latest case. They had barely even stepped into the precinct when they got called out to a scene in the FiDi. "The exchange hasn't even opened yet, Cap , how the hell?" Gus asked, sucking her coffee down greedily, though she regretted this when they arrived at the bloody scene at the disgustingly dirty fast food joint.

"You okay, sunshine?" Flack smirked after Gus picked herself up off the ground after slipping on the hash browns someone had discarded when stumbling across the dead body of one of the workers.

The case led them through three boroughs and ended up being a murder suicide, with the suicide not being discovered for two days as they attempted to track down the victim's boyfriend.

"How's it going, Broussard?" Flack asked, tipping back in his desk chair in an attempt to not look too eager to leave. He had managed to score a reservation at a new tiny hot spot over in the West Village that Lindsay got all excited about when he mentioned it to her in the lab earlier, the death glare he got from Danny told him he had done well.

"I. Am. Typing. As. Fast. As. I. Can. Flack!" she said, her fingers flying over the keyboard.

"What's the problem, Donnie boy, you got some place better to be?" Parker teased from his desk behind Gus'.

"Yeah, Parker, I actually do," Flack shot back, leaning forward in his chair.

"What a hot date?" Parker took in his carefully slicked back hair and noticed he was wearing a button down at work for the first time in ages, and was that a blazer hanging over his desk chair? His flicked to Gus, but she was clad in khakis and a long-sleeve t-shirt. Something wasn't right here. "Oh Jesus, don't tell me you two are on the outs again, because if so I owe Lafferty 3 C-notes and I Christmas ain't that far away so I don't have that kinda free cash floating around."

Daddino, of course, decided to leave his office for the night at that exact moment and skidded to a halt, his head swiveling back and forth between the two detectives, hoping things were not about to go sideways in the pit again. Why hadn't he just sent her up to Special Vics?

"Everyone cool your damn jets," Gus said, loudly clicking her mouse to file their report. "Yes, Parker, he does have a hot date, at least I like to think so, but your wallet is safe, sugar. Now if you don't mind, I'm going to go change into something...less comfortable," she said, pushing back from her desk and sashaying toward the locker room.

After craning his head to watch her leave, Parker stood up and went over to Flack's desk, patting him on the shoulder, "you better not mess things up this time, Junior."

"Gotta say I agree with him, kid," Daddino said, breathing a sigh of relief.

"I'm not planning on it," Flack replied, groaning as his desk phone started ringing, Mac's office coming up on the screen. "This better be good, Taylor," he growled by way of answering.

Gus stepped hesitantly out of the locker room a few minutes later, having slipped into the dress and heels she had brought and shaking out her messy ponytail. Since Flack was still in jeans, she decided to forgo extra makeup. Thatcher caught sight of her first and paused midway to his mouth with the sandwich he was eating, causing Gus to feel suddenly self-conscious. The dress was far tighter and shorter than she normally wore, but the lace overlay had reminded her of Miss Loretta's gorgeous tablecloths and the blue was the exact shade of Don's eyes when he was completely content; not to mention Billy had bullied her into buying it one day after too many drinks at brunch. She turned the corner, where Flack was still on the phone and upon seeing his expression, her heart immediately sank. "Let me guess," she sighed, trying to not be crushed. They were cops, this was the job, they knew what they were signing on for, protect and serve, fidelis ad mortem and all that.

"It's Adam," Flack replied, dropping the phone heavily back into its receiver.

Gus wavered slightly. "Adam, oh God, no!" she exclaimed, her palm going to her mouth, thinking she really couldn't risk being happy without the universe hurting someone she loved.

Flack was on his feet in an instant, "Adam is fine, more or less. He just..." Flack trailed off, trying to figure out how to explain what Mac had had such trouble trying to explain to him with Adam near hysterical in the background. "He's pretty shaken up. He thinks he witnessed a murder and looking at you in this dress he better have or is he is going to witness his own," Flack said moving closer so nobody else could listen in, the pit's attention intently focused on them, or more accurately Gus' hemline. Flack tucked Gus' hair behind her ear, forcing himself to not do more in the middle of their workplace. "You should head up there, he needs a friend and I have to track down a webmaster in Stockholm."

Gus closed her eyes, forcing her disappointed down and flooded with concern for her friend. "Poor Adam. Wait, thinks? Stockholm?" She looked at Flack confused before glaring at the guys inching closer to them trying to eavesdrop.

"He was on some website, some chat thing when he saw this girl get strangled. I don't know, Mac just asked me to make some calls and said Adam was freaking out, so we're a no go. I wonder if Lindsay and Danny want our reservations..." Flack trailed off with a sigh.

"Do I even want to know?" Gus asked glumly.

"Probably not," Flack replied.

Gus nodded, wrinkling her nose, "then probably, yeah, they should enjoy them, someone should," she sighed before heading toward the elevator.

"Rain check? Flack called after her.

Gus looked over one shoulder with a slightly mischievous grin, "oh you better believe it, buddy," she said before slipping out of her heels.

_**A/N: I'm trying really hard to not run out of steam with this, y'all, I keep having great future snippets of them but getting them there...anyway, hope y'all are still enjoying!**_


	4. R3wind

Gus ran, barefoot, toward the lab; worried and confused about what was happening with Adam, cursing her lack of mobility in her dress. She skidded into Mac's office, where he merely cocked an eyebrow at her appearance and pointed to where Adam was sitting on one of the couches. "Adam, sugar," she said, plopping down next to him and pulling him to her, "what happened?"

Adam recoiled from her touch, something that confused and slightly hurt Gus, jumping up and pacing, retelling the story he had just told Mac about being on a char sight and witnessing the strangulation of the pretty young woman he had talked to right before his eyes by a masked man. Gus realized his behavior was due to his OCD kicking in due to stress, watching as he compulsively traced the same path through Mac's office, all while alternating between tapping on his leg with his fingers and tugging on his ear. Her heart ached for him, not just for what horrors he had witnessed, but for how it was affecting him.

Gus rose moving to block his progress before he wore a hole in the floor. He stopped short, blinking at her repeatedly, his hand inching toward his ear before she carefully took each of his hands in her own, guiding them back down. "Adam, honey, I need you to take a deep breath and hold it." He immediately complied, recognizing that she was trying to help him. "Okay, now let it out," she said, walking him back over toward the seating area. "Take a seat, hon," she ordered, gesturing at the chair and not following suit until he complied, slipping his hands underneath his thighs to stop his compulsions. She walked him through some more breathing exercises, trying to get him to calm down. Her attention drawn away from him only when she heard Mac say, "thanks for coming back in." Gus looked up to see Jo and Flack entering Mac's office, a slight downcast to Flack's expression and one of curiosity on Jo's face as she took in Gus' appearance before explaining that Hawkes was on his way back up.

Mac nodded before asking about Flack's progress with the website administrator. "It's global and as the dude in Stockholm explained it to me, their users are everywhere. They basically give two strangers electronic room keys and leave the rest up to them." Gus realized that was the reason for his downcast look.

Mac sighed, "so even if we saw a woman get killed, we have no online evidence of it whatsoever?"

"Nope, not to mention depending on where it happened it might not even be in our jurisdiction," Flack replied, shaking his head.

Adam dropping his head into his hands, looking completely dejected, Gus could sympathize, as could Jo, judging by the sadness in her chestnut eyes. She approached him carefully, "are you absolutely sure it was murder, Adam? When I was at the FBI we saw hundred of fake snuff films and hoaxes every year and they can be very convincing..." she trailed off, giving him space.

"I saw a man in black walk up behind a beautiful girl and choke the life right out of her. I never saw a person get murdered before. Until tonight," Adam replied, both crushed and certain.

"Alright, we've got out work cut out for us," Mac replied, trying to not sound weary.

Flack was not as convincing, his shoulders sagging. "No kidding, we don't know who our killer is, we don't know who our victim is!"

"Don and Gus, you keep on the website and stand by if we come up with anything. Jo, take Adam to the A/V lab and get everything you can out of him, have Sheldon help you," Mac instructed.

Flack nodded, helping Gus up off the couch, shaking his head in disappointment at their broken date, his hand resting at the base of her spine. Gus gave him a small smile, musing at the butterflies she still felt in her stomach at his touch. The connection was broken at Adam's pleading tone. "Can Gus come with us, please?" Adam asked. Mac nodded, realizing how fragile the lab tech was.

Gus followed Jo and Adam to the A/V lab, giving Flack a last longing look over her shoulder. She wasn't surprised when Adam had troubled recalling the details Jo and Hawkes were pushing for, but she was surprised at Jo's handling of him. Not that she should have been, Jo's psych training had already been proven in interrogation, but her talents obviously spread far beyond that. Gus tried to not feel pangs of envy as Jo carefully drew more details from Adam, reconstructing what he witnessed through his recall of memories from his use. Even the prodigious Hawkes seemed impressed as Jo finally managed to help Adam realize that the location of the woman must have been in Manhattan. She slunk off feeling redundant, to change out of her ridiculous dress and obtain a warrant, thinking she could at least be somewhat useful.

"Ain't you a little overdressed, Broussard?" Lafferty sneered as she crossed the pit on the way to the locker room.

"At least I'm not wearing a suit that looks like I bought it from a homeless guy" she seethed, not stopping, but wincing at the rancor in her tone.

"What crawled up her ass, or should I say hasn't?" he snapped, scowling at Flack.

"Don't even start, Lafferty, not tonig-" Flack broke off, taking in the rising sun, "day, whatever, just don't."

Gus reappeared, back in her normal work attire, typing furiously away on her computer to get a warrant for a crime they still weren't positive had been committed. She drummed her fingers impatiently against her desk, waiting for it to come through, ignoring Flack's staring at her.

"You going to clue me in on what happened up there?" he asked.

"My friend witnesses a murder and freaks out but instead of being a good detective I go into mama duck mode and worry more about him than the facts so of course Jo the magician Danville swoops in with her neuroscience and saves the day leaving me to beg for a warrant and feeling like I am completely ineffectual," Gus admitted, her expression one of defeat.

Flack shook his head, hating her cutting herself down, her insecurities had been on the rise...well since they broke up, but they seem to have gotten worse and it worried him. But he didn't have time to deal with it at the moment, for now they had to go try to track down a body, if there even was one. "Sunshine, you can't keep doing that, and you definitely can't do it now," he said, as the warrant came up on the server, "let's go."

* * *

They all headed to the building that Sheldon had located with the details Jo had gotten out of Adam, the building's super trying to bar their entrance until Gus shoved the warrant, happy she had taken the time to get one. They rushed toward the apartment, weapons drawn, both wanting and not wanting Adam to have seen what he thought he saw. The body on the hardwoods confirmed his story, though nobody took any pleasure in this. The CSI team started securing the scene while Flack and Gus began their canvass of the building. She excited just in time to spy Jo dressing Adam down as he sat slumped in the front of Mac's truck.

"You're being ridiculous, we deal with death every day, man up!" Jo admonished him.

Gus was seconds from jumping in until she overhead Adam spilling his feelings to Jo, which is what she had been going for all along. "Damn it, Broussard!" she cursed herself, hating that her emotions were getting the better of her. Why was she being so petulant and moody? It was ridiculous and was grating on her own nerves, so she could only imagine how she appeared to everyone else. It was a miracle she hadn't driven Flack away, but maybe that was because they weren't spending every second together...

Gus was lost in her wallowing and jumped when Flack said, "so what did you get, I got nothing from the super except grief and the vic's name, Sass Dumonde, exchange student from Paris, tough gig, huh?"

She nodded, still feeling out of it, kicking herself for not catching Jo's tricks when Danny and Lindsay arrived, looking fresh-faced and happy. But then again, they hadn't been on the clock for 28 hours straight. Danny came up, exchanging pounds with Flack saying, "my man, thanks for giving us the reservations last night, Lindsay was..." he trailed off, seeing the looks on both of their faces.

"Danny!" Lindsay chastised, "but, seriously, you guys, thank you, you two really do need to go yourselves. Now did Adam really see a girl get murdered online?"

Flack and Gus both nodded, telling them where the apartment was and going to debrief with Mac. Mac took in Gus' downtrodden and weary expression. "Why don't you two go get some rest, I'll call you when the scene has been processed."

Gus started to protest, but Flack led her quickly, but gently away. "You gotta quit looking gift horses in the mouth, sunshine, are you not beat?" Gus shrugged, but a yawn betrayed her. "Uh-huh, that's settles that then," he smirked at her, opening the car door.

A hours of attempting but failing to fall asleep, despite Flack sprawled and slightly snoring in her bed, Gus curled up on her sofa trying to sort through her despondency. Wasn't this what she wanted so badly? To be back in New York, back with Don, back with the NYPD? Everything had seemed so right and settled, the future broad before them on their plane ride back. So what had changed? Except Jo joining the team. But it couldn't' be just that...as if her friend could sense her distress across the miles, Gus' phone started buzzing, the called id bringing a smile to her face and also the realization that part of her sullenness was feeling isolated. This feeling was only exacerbated as Billy regaled her stories of how he was showing Stella the town. "So what up with you, sugar, how are you answering the phone on a workday?"

"Sent home to sleep after being on the clock for almost thirty hours. Don's sawing logs but I couldn't sleep," Gus admitted.

"You're letting that fine hunk of man sleep alone, girl you are crazy!" Billy admonished, "have you asked him to marry you yet?"

Gus rolled her eyes, "Billy, let that go, would you? I already messed that up and call me old-fashioned but I am not about to be the one to purpose even if I used up all my chances and am destined to never get married, alright! Now please let's talk about something else, except don't tell me more about how awesome Stella is doing because I don't want to be reminded that she is gone and she has been replaced by Agent Freud while I seem to have become some bumbling idiot!"

Flack paused in the hallway, having worried when he woke up and found Gus' side of the bed cold, not wanting to eavesdrop on her conversation but also struck by her despondent tone. He hadn't been able to read her lately, that was part of the reason he had pushed for a date night, he wanted them to reconnect. Part of why they were so good on the job was their being able to read each other's every mood and move. But despite her glumness, he couldn't help but smile at her words or how far from the truth they were. He shook his head, retreating back to the bedroom, falling back asleep, barely stirring when she joined him later.

"Psst...sunshine," Flack said, gently nudging Gus' shoulder. She protested slightly, before emerging from underneath the pillow and blankets when he announced he had coffee.

"My hero," she said, taking the mug from him.

"I try. Now shake a leg, we gotta go pick up some lowlife by the name of Powell. AFIS got a hit on his partials at the scene," Flack said, opening her closet door, which is when Gus realized he was already showered and in different clothes.

"Jesus, Don, how out was I, did you go home?" she remarked, springing to action. "Let me guess," she said, pulling out clothes and running toward the bathroom, "multiple priors?"

"Yep, assault and portable electronics theft. And yeah, I had to run home, checked to make sure you were breathing first though," he said for the doorway, watching her rush to get ready.

* * *

Luckily Tory Powell came down to the precinct without any fuss, which Gus hoped was a good sign. She observed as Flack and Jo interviewed him.

"How long were you and Sass dating?" Flack snapped at the slightly unnerved Powell, who stupidly replied, "stopped by her place last week for a little action."

Gus could see Flack's eyes narrowing in annoyance even from the observation area, not surprised that his voice dripped with sarcasm when he prodded,"and?"

Powell's voice was tinged with amazement,"she turned me down." Flack gave an eye roll as if to say he couldn't imagine why, as Jo sat there carefully observing the young man.

Gus leaned in, taking in Powell's body language, the tension in his neck, but she was still surprised when Jo pointed out how much he was swallowing, throwing him off with some deep psyche tactics and getting him to open up about his theft of several electronics as gifts for Sass in hopes of getting in her good graces or, more likely, her pants.

Gus was torn between cheering for Jo's use of her profession and feeling once again like she was losing her spot on the team. Finally feeling like she had set herself free from all that was binding her to New Orleans, Gus worried that she had burned too many bridges and was going to end up free-floating until her life inevitably came crashing down. She was chewing on her lip and this thought when Jo and Flack exited, Flack making a joke about being thirsty. She barely caught their conversation until she heard Jo mention something about a missing laptop from a financial company and that possibly being the motive for the young woman's murder.

"So what do you think?" Flack asked as they headed back toward the pit to run Jo's request of thefts from vehicles.

"About?" Gus asked, still feeling a bit too introspective.

Flack stopped short to look at her, like he was debating making some quip, but then he thought of how she sounded earlier. "Powell, what's your take on him?" he asked, moving them out of the path and leaning against the wall, trying to remain professional and look nonchalant, when really all he wanted was to shake her and tell her to snap out of it or take her to the on-call room and make her forget about every last one of her worries and insecurities.

Gus gave a half-shrug, "he certainly isn't a winner, but I think overall he was just trying to impress or buy the affections of a pretty girl, he was plenty nervous, but he didn't read like a murderer." She paused, her mouth open to say more, but she stopped until Flack shot her a look and motioned for her to continue. "But maybe I don't know jack squat, I'm not really on top of my game since I've been stuck on cold cases."

"Don't know jack squat? Come on, sunshine, you figured out that Westwick was sleeping with the vic before anyone else, not to mention you probably would have had him linked up and safely in booking if Mac hadn't opened his mouth, not to mention I am sure you are the only reason Adam was able to tell anybody anything because you calmed him down."

"But Jo was-" Gus started to protest.

"Jo nothing, she's good, I'll give you that, but she has a lot more experience, as a Fed none the less, so who knows that kind of hocus pocus training she has gotten...you are still in the game, babe, you just have to believe that." He settled for squeezing her on the shoulder, even though he wanted to pull her into his arms.

Gus clenched her jaw, wanting to protest, wanting to snap her fingers and get back to her old self, but instead just gave him a curt nod and headed back toward her desk to start wading through reports.

"So what do you think of this whole lookinatchu site anyway?" Flack asked as they sat at their respective computers going through endless theft reports.

Gus leaned back in her chair, stretching, "I am sure it serves some purpose and I suppose it is interesting to think of how increasingly small the world is getting through electronic connections."

"Interesting or creepy," Flack retorted, "besides, as far as I can tell it is just weirdos wanting to show people their schlongs."

Gus couldn't help but laugh, "there is that, not to mention I don't even want to think about how much of a predator's paradise it is, kids gravitate to it...Comp Crimes and Special Vics are probably swamped from it getting so popular."

"Maybe that's why they want you so bad," Flack said with a grin.

"Yes, so I can look at random naked men on the computer all day, that is totally how I want to spend my time," Gus shot back.

"What, Flack ain't putting out?" Parker teased, walking by on his way to get coffee.

Flack and Gus both glared at him, but he was saved by Flack's computer. "Got something, grand larceny report was filled back in June silver BMW registered to Christopher Garcia, he just so happens to work for Draga Financial. I'm going to go loop Mac in, why don't you go get us a couple of coffee's and kick Parker's ass for me?"

"No problem, it's an easy and big enough target, I'll also see what all I can dig up on Garcia," Gus said, her blood starting to buzz with what seemed like a promising lead. She pulled up Garcia's information, deciding to give his supervisor a call, pleased to learn that Garcia was well known for burning the midnight oil at his Wall Street office. She decided to skip the motor oil masquerading as coffee in the pit and head over to the lab to loop Mac and Flack in.

Gus rushed up to Mac and Flack walking the halls of the lab, overhearing Mac say, "then he would have all the expertise required to track down a stolen computer?"

"Not only that," Gus interrupted, "he's got an office down on Wall St. supervisor says he usually works late."

"Then by all means, let's pay him a visit," Mac said, starting to lead the way.

* * *

It was then Gus spied an intense conversation happening between Jo and Adam and she didn't like the expressions on either of their faces. She felt torn between wanting to spring into cop action and wanting to check on her friend. Flack saw where her attention was focused and her wavering. "We got this," he said, "you take care of that," he said, pointing his chin towards the intense pair.

"I owe you," she said, relieved.

"I will hold you to that, sunshine," he replied with a wink.

Adam had already disappeared into the locker room when she turned back around. Gus debated following him, but decided to talk to Jo instead. "That seemed pretty intense," she said, walking into the computer lab.

"Oh that little thing, that was nothing," Jo said with a smile a little too bright to be genuine.

Gus turned her head slightly, "nice try, Jo, is that your debutante or pageant training?" she pressed on.

Jo's smile disappeared, "I should've known better. Both. You know how it is." Gus just stood, waiting for her to spill. Jo let out a long sigh, slumping in the chair Adam had left. "I received a call from an...associate at the FBI, they were alerted to some activity on Draga Financials network emanating from this lab." She dropped her head to her hands, looking disappointed.

"Are you telling me that Adam was hacking into their system?" Gus squeaked out, louder than she wanted to, something punctuated by Jo's move to shush her.

"Shhhh, more like looking in the window, so I sent him home and told him to not do anything stupid." Jo paused, as if debating. "I'm going to have to tell Mac, you know."

Gus stopped herself from rolling her eyes. "I know, he would find out somehow anyway, or Adam would give himself away, he doesn't do well with...grey areas. But it still sucks. Maybe I should go check on him."

"Gus, I know your reaction is to be a good friend or mother hen, it is mine as well, but I think Adam just needs some time to get his head on straight. Give him some space, I'm pretty sure he'll call you if he needs you. Now how about we go get some tea?" she suggested.

Gus nodded, stating, "make mine a coffee and you've got yourself a deal, but I also want to hear all about this 'associate' you have at the FBI." She gave Jo a knowing look, having caught her pause and inflection. Also, she may have heard from Stella that there was a couple of reasons Jo Danville had wanted to leave the Bureau and Gus was guessing one of them was of the romantic nature.

The women were so captivated by their conversation, they didn't even realize the commotion happening on the roof of the parking deck next to them until a battered Adam came limping into the break room.

"Good Lord, Adam!" both women exclaimed in a drawl at the same time.

"I thought I sent you home," Jo said, rushing over to check out his wounds, "what on earth happened?"

"Apparently I found Sass Dumonde's killer, or he found me," Adam said, wincing as Jo blotted off a gash on his head.

Gus rushed to get a first aid kit, returning with a concerned expression. "Sugar, you are going to fill me in on everything I have apparently missed with this case, but first we need to get you looked at. Let me see if Hawkes is still around. Speaking from experience, he does much better on live people than Sid."

Adam brushed her off, "I'm fine, Gus, just a few scrapes and bruises, I've had worse."

Gus wasn't sure if he was talking about when he had been held hostage in the warehouse after the Moran bust or if he meant the abusive he had endured as a child. Regardless, she suppressed a shiver as she pulled out an alcohol prep pad and a couple of butterfly bandages for the nasty cut above his eye.

Despite his protestations, Adam still winced as the women clucked over him as they patched him up. He also filled them in on his scuffle with Christopher Garcia on the roof and how Mac and Flack had gotten to him just in the nick of time. He then looked at Jo, saying earnestly, "I guess you need to go talk to the boss man now, huh?"

Jo looked at him with a somewhat wistful expression, "I have to, Adam, you know that." Adam nodded his assent. Jo strode off, pausing briefly to look over her shoulder, "stop looking so glum, y'all, nobody is going to die."

"I might if I get fired," Adam sighed.

Gus chewed on her lip, "I don't think you are going to get fired, Adam, but that was pretty risky, no matter how gorgeous Sass was."

"It was just that, Gus!" Adam exclaimed, "it was just...I don't see what you guys see everyday, and even so, you are there after the fact. I wish I could have done something to stop it from happening, to have gone back in time. I don't think I am ever going to be able to get that picture of the light going out of her eyes out of my head." He shuddered, "I don't know how I am going to get to sleep."

Gus nodded, knowing what he meant. She quickly made him a cup of tea and moved her chair closer to him, laying her palm on his forearm. "You won't, not for a while, not without assistance of some sort and when you do, you'll probably have nightmares. But it will get better and will fade over time. You are strong, Adam, stronger than you even realize. And you have a whole lot of people here for you, even if you don't think so."

Adam opened his mouth to respond, but Mac appeared in the doorway, clearing his throat. "And that's my cue," Adam sighed, looking like Mac was the executioner.

"Be gentle, Uncle Mac," Gus called after them.

She decided to head back over to the precinct to see if Flack needed any help finishing up his latest round of paperwork; though she paused at the doorway to the trace lab after hearing Danny ranting about Lucy never using a computer and Lindsay teasing him that she already was. "Someone has to teach you how to program your DVR, Messer," Gus teased from the doorway.

"That's enough out of you, Broussard, you've cost me enough this week," he shot back with a grin, ignoring Lindsay's look.

"Excuse me?" Gus said, cocking her hand on her hip.

He raised his eyebrows, "if you woulda been able to keep your date with Flack, I wouldn'ta had to shell out for that fancy dinner."

"Gee, thanks, Danny," Lindsay quipped.

Gus shook her head, "and on that note, I'm out of here. See y'all Saturday?" They both nodded, before Lindsay started berating her now back peddling husband.

Gus was still chuckling to herself when she entered the pit. "Glad someone is amused this evening," Flack remarked, briefly looking up from his computer screen.

"Messer just stepped in it big time, that's all. Thanks for making sure my woobie didn't get creamed," she said, sliding into her desk chair.

Flack stopped typing now looking very much amused himself. "Your 'woobie' did just fine on his own, pretty sure he should join the softball team with that kind of batting. Now how about I finish this up and we get the heck out of here?"

"Sounds like a plan, I'll grab a change of clothes from my locker and we can head to your place," she said, gathering her belongings, ignoring the look he was giving her. "I'm not avoiding my place, just thought you might like to remind your landlord that you still lived at yours. Meet you out front in five?" she asked, pausing to land a quick kiss on the top of his head.

Flack looked up at her like he didn't quite believe her, "fine, but make sure you grab that blue dress."

"Think it's a little late for a fancy dinner date, blue eyes," Gus shot back.

"My bedroom's open pretty late, sunshine," he replied, his eyes flashing knowingly.


	5. Circle of Friends

Flack changed his mind about the blue dress once he saw how exhausted Gus was, as she fell asleep in the car. Not that he didn't plan to see the dress on his floor later, now he just wanted her to get some sleep. He knew she had slept little and fitfully and after overhearing her conversation with Billy, he even knew why. The problem was he didn't know how to fix things. Scratch that, one part of the equation he could technically solve, but what if she wasn't ready, what if he wasn't ready, what if they weren't ready? He meant what he said at her parents' mausoleum, yet there was something holding him back. Even though it had been a year and a half since Jess died- Flack cut his thought off, realizing he had missed his turn for his building and was thankful Gus was asleep and hadn't noticed and questioned him about it.

He gently roused her, as she practically sleepwalked into his apartment. "Sorry about ruining sexy times, blue eyes, I'm just exhausted," she said sleepily, leaving a trail of clothing between his entry and bedroom and climbing underneath his covers.

"It's fine, sunshine, you've got, what, four hours sleep in forty-eight, not to mention I know you were worried about Adam," Flack replied, thinking her naked in his bed still equaled sexy times to him.

"I'm still worried about Adam, Don, but," she yawned widely, "I can worry about him in the morning. Assuming Mac didn't fire him, which he better not have," Gus grumbled.

Flack couldn't help but smile down at her, tucking her in and giving her a kiss, "Mac isn't stupid, babe. I'm going to forage for some food, you sure you don't want anything to eat before you go to sleep?"

"I'm good, but I demand a giant breakfast before shift tomorrow," she replied with a smile. Just before Flack went to stand, she gripped his shirt and pulled him back down to her, giving him a long, heated kiss. "String beans, Don, love you."

"Cold shower, dinner and then maybe I can get some sleep," Flack mumbled to himself as he walked away.

True to words he didn't even speak, Flack delivered a full breakfast in bed to Gus early the next morning.

"Don, you can cook? I didn't know you knew how to make Eggs Benedict!" Gus exclaimed.

"It's really just boiling water," Flack replied, looking suddenly sheepish.

"Whatever, you could give the Brennan's a run for their money," Gus said, shoveling in the food, starving since she skipped dinner.

Flack laughed at her, "you could actually slow down and enjoy it you know, last bit of paperwork will wait."

"I know but I would rather take our comp time at the end of shift instead of the beginning," Gus said, "besides it is that good!"

"I guessed that by the fact that you've barely touched your coffee. Now if you don't mind, chef needs to eat as well. Plus, I don't want to witness you licking the plate, we should keep some mystery in our relationship."

"If this detective thing doesn't work out for you, you might want to avoid stand-up," Gus called after him, even as she did run her finger through the hollandaise sauce on the plate.

Final paperwork submitted, but still not cut loose by their Captain, Gus went over to the lab to find out what Mac had done with Adam. She had tried calling her friend a few times, but her calls went straight to voice mail and she was more than a little worried. Which is probably why she more stormed than strode into Mac's office after not finding anyone else around able to tell her what was going on with Adam. He looked up from the pile of paperwork on his desk only when he heard her tapping her foot against the tile in front of him. He took in the arms crossed across her chest, her foot impatiently tapping away, her ponytail swinging with the movement, her eyes and jaw set. He couldn't help but smirk, which only caused her mouth to move from a straight line to a slight frown as her expression turned to a scowl.

"You look like Claire when you do that, Gussie, or more accurately the look she would give me when I had forgotten something important or had to stand her up for the hundredth time. What have I done now?" Mac set his pen down and leaned back in his seat, inwardly thinking something in him must have changed if he was willingly bringing up Claire. It was true they did bare somewhat of a resemblance, it growing as Gus aged and at certain times looking at his niece was like looking at a ghost, but previously he had ignored it or shoved it deep down because the alternative still clawed at his heart.

"I don't know, Uncle Mac, what have you done?" Gus asked her forehead furrowing with worry. Mac raised his eyebrows at her, not answering and waiting to see if she was planning on sitting.

She didn't instead uncrossing her arms and resting her fingertips on the edge of his desk, leaning down to be eye-level with him. "What did you do to Adam? He isn't answering my calls!"

"Oh that," Mac said, going back to his paperwork, "three day suspension. A gift really."

Gus stood straight back up, throwing her hands in the air, "a gift? He didn't actually do anything, he was just-"

"About to hack into financial system and possibly jeopardize a Federal investigation. I call that something," Mac replied, his tone informing her that he wasn't going to argue.

She slumped in one of the chairs facing his desk, "well, when you put it that way. But still, I'm just worried about him."

"He's getting three days off, and his record will barely be blemished, he will be fine. I'm just glad Jo talked sense into him before he did something he would regret even more," Mac continued, thinking he had made a great hire but also wondering how things were going between the two Southern detectives. "How are you two getting along, by the way?"

Gus gave a small shrug, "fine, I suppose. It is nice to have someone else around that understands the SEC, I mean Sid loves football, but he roots for the Big Ten..." Gus gave a small shudder, to which Mac did not respond, just letting her go on a tangent, knowing it was the best way for her to get to her true thoughts and feelings. Mac was often bemused by how a woman who had made two careers out of having people spill all their innermost thoughts and secrets to her could keep her own cards so close to her chest. "...anyways, she's definitely good at which she does, and apparently at what I do. Are you sure you aren't trying to shove me out, Uncle Mac?" Gus finished, catching her ponytail and twisting her hair around her finger.

"I've been over this, Augusta, I brought her on because she was far and away the best qualified candidate, not to mention she was looking for a change. Yes, she has some of the same skills as you, but, as you have so often reminded me, you are a homicide detective and report to Daddino. And who knows what the future holds, what if you decide to transfer to another department? What if you get married and have children and want to move out of the city? I want you to be able to have whatever life you want, whatever life makes you happy without worrying about me and my team."

"Whoa, Mac, that's a whole lot of ifs and do you know something I don't know? Pretty sure I told Daddino I wanted to stay in homicide, I don't see a ring on this finger, not to mention nine months seems like an eternity to go without wine and do you see me giving up my place for some place in the suburbs?" Gus tried to laugh off Mac's revelation, but it fell short, these were all valid concerns, and if she was honest with herself, possibilities; maybe not today or tomorrow, but at some point...Gus caught herself going down a path of hopes that she just couldn't let herself right now, she still wasn't sure how solid her relationship with Don was, or what he even wanted out of her or the future. She shook herself, happy that her phone started buzzing, a feeling of relief washing over her as she saw who it was. "Nice chatting with you as always, Mac, I gotta take this, it's Adam."

Gus ended up spending her Friday night consoling Adam, leaving Flack free to sit in on a friend's poker game, down a man at the last minute. Adam was in fair enough spirits, his pride slightly wounded by his suspension, but his ego stroked by taking out a murderer who was coming for him. "Obi-Wannabe-Kanobe, really sugar?" Gus asked with a laugh as Adam filled her in on Danny and Sheldon's teasing of him.

"I know, I should be offended, but I was shocked at Hawkes using a pop culture reference, so I let it slide," Adam replied, scratching his head, "so what do you want to do tonight?"

"I'm not the one who is suspended, darling, choice is all yours," Gus said, pushing a copy of the _Press_ his way.

They ended up catching a film fest and a late bite, then stayed up too late drinking and playing video games, catching up and cracking jokes. "I've missed this, Gus," Adam admitted after beating her soundly at their latest game.

"Me too, Adam, it's just...hard to balance everything, to be everything I am supposed to be to everyone and then I look at Lindsay and I think it is only going to get harder and harder as time goes on. And I was worried about things being weird between us and then when I came back with Don, things were just different and you were busy trying to figure out what to do with your dad and I was busy worrying that I was being replaced by Jo and I, I don't know, Adam, but I don't like it!" Gus said with a burst of air.

"I don't like it either, it seems like so much is changing, like everyone is changing. But things aren't weird between us Gus, they're different, sure, but not bad, and I haven't exactly been actively trying to hang with you either, and maybe some of that is because I know I can't compete with Don and it's not like I am trying to, I just don't want to take up your time when you two were separated for like way too long and-" Adam rambled.

"Stop, Adam, stop," Gus exclaimed, overcome with laughter, "let's just call it even and promise to hang out at least once a month, okay?"

Adam nodded, "deal, now I'm not trying to kick you out, but it is like three in the morning and Don is a lot bigger than me and he's probably wondering where you are."

"He was having a guys' night playing poker, probably is passed out at his place, but point taken. You need to rest up anyway, those cuts still look awful, shug," Gus said, giving him a hug before calling a cab.

Gus was feeling every second and drink of her late night when Flack arrived to pick her up to head to the Messer's the next day. As she had expected, she let herself into an empty apartment, a text several hours old from Flack informing her that he was heading to his place. She only then realized that he no longer had a key to her place, and hadn't for some time. She would have dwelt on the emptiness of her place without him there, but she was exhausted and fighting off the effects of whatever awful sugary drink Adam had concocted for them from whatever he had in his tiny, barren kitchen.

"You do know it is after Noon, right, sunshine?" Flack asked, a dimpled grin on his face when Gus opened the door to her place, half-dressed, a coffee mug in one hand and a hairbrush in the other, neither of which looked like she had done anything with yet.

"Bite me, Don," Gus growled, padding back to the bathroom.

"I can't tell if you had a really good time or a really bad time, either way, do I need to have a chat with Ross?" Flack asked, settling himself on her sofa, feeling perfectly fine since he had left the poker game a few bucks richer and was sawing logs by midnight.

Gus came back out, brushing her teeth. Flack tried, and failed, to understand what she was staying until she held up a finger, headed to the nearest sink and came back. "It was fine, he just tried to play mixologist and I should really remember to not drink anything that is neon. I am too old for neon."

"It happens to us all eventually," he sagely agreed, surveying her still only half-clad figure appraisingly, "what time were we supposed to be there again?"

Gus rolled her eyes, "don't even think about it, blue eyes, my head is pounding way too much to be in the game. Speaking of games, how was yours?"

"Wiped the floor with them, don't think Thatcher will be asking me to sit in again," Flack said, coming up to her, "but back to you not wearing pants, I only need your head like half, maybe only a quarter in the game," his hand encircled her waist before snaking up under her shirt.

"I've had less than half a cup of coffee and we are already running late, Don, Lindsay has already called, she wants to make sure we are there before nap time so they can put Lucy down and they can then have and I quote 'adult beverages and conversation', so let it go."

"It's a good thing Lucy is cute," Flack grumbled, removing his hand reluctantly.

"I promise to have my head 100% in the game when we get back, Don, promise, and I haven't taken the blue dress to the cleaners yet either," Gus said with a smile, before going to finish getting ready.

They spent a low key afternoon with Lindsay, Danny and Lucy. Gus marveling at both how much Lucy had grown and how Lucy stuck to her like glue while Flack had fun tossing the toddler around and stacking endless towers of blocks that she took great joy in knocking down. Things got a little harried when Lucy did not want to go down for her nap, her screeches bringing Gus' headache back and her desiring the wine Lindsay had set out to breathe that she hadn't previously planned on imbibing in.

Lindsay and Gus enjoyed the crisp air on the small balcony while Danny and Don were hypnotized by a baseball game inside. "You go through this every day?" Gus asked, incredulous and in awe.

"That was more because other people were around and she is starting to assert her wilfulness, which while developmentally appropriate is so exhausting, plus when I think this is just the start of the terrible twos..." Lindsay shuddered, "but Danny is a great help and her day care is amazing."

"So you planning on Messer number two then?" Gus asked, half-teasing, half-curious.

Lindsay choked on her wine, "don't get me wrong, I love my little girl with all my heart and everything seems just so complete now, but, well I really missed wine. What about you, got baby fever yet?"

"Linds, I'm not even mar-" Gus broke off, realizing what she was about to say, taking a big gulp of wine. "I'm not there yet, I don't know for sure that I will be there, if I ever was, I would want it to be with Don, but it seems like there is still so much hanging between us."

"Jess?" Lindsay asked, her tone full of enough concern to take the bluntness of that one word out of the air.

"Mostly, and Doyle some too, I think," Gus said, rubbing the rim of her glass absent mindedly.

Lindsay made a small noise, "pu-lease, Gus, you had every right to sleep with Doyle, you were both single, consenting, attractive adults. Don made his own choices, so did you and if he has a problem with that, tell him to come talk to me, I was the one trying to get you laid so damn bad. And aren't you the one who told me you both decided to leave your ghosts in New Orleans? We all cared for Jess and it is still tragic that she died, but you can't let that stop you from being happy."

"I just don't want Don to think I expect him to just forget about her or that I am trying to dishonor her memory," Gus protested.

"Hun, you are the last person I can think of that would dishonor anybody's memory, you light candles for criminals!" Lindsay argued.

"Fair enough, I just...I don't know, it's just been different," Gus sighed.

Lindsay finished her wine, "of course it has been, everything is different, probably because we're growing up. Now seeing as those two aren't going anywhere and Lucy is out for the count, how about you and I go shopping?"

It was several hours later before Gus and Don arrived back at her place and she was able to slip into and out of the blue dress for him. They were tangled up in each other and the sheets, sleeping a peaceful and satiated sleep when their phones started buzzing some time around 1am.

"Well at least it waited until now," Gus said, rushing toward the shower why Flack got the details of their latest call out.

Flack more stopped the car in the middle of the street behind a patrol car in front of the frat house as both sides of the street were filled with the party goers inside. 80's music blared out the open windows and Gus was amazed there hadn't been a noise complaint. They attempted to weave their way through the crowd of inebriated college students, most of them in very little clothing and what little they wore seemed to be revolve around a common theme. "She did not avoid the neon drinks either," Gus remarked to a girl who was hurling bright liquid into a trashcan while a friend held her hair back.

"I am pretty sure I didn't miss out on anything by not going to college," Flack said with a disapproving look, glaring at the co-ed clad in just a dress shirt and sunglasses who attempted to snake herself around him.

"You didn't," Gus replied, stepping over the body of a passed out pledge who was going to regret what had been graffitied on him in the morning, "what's this kid look like again?"

Flack showed her the photograph of Billy Travers. "Too long hair, round cheeked, spoiled brat, you know the type," he said.

Gus surveyed the crowd before them, "oh yeah, that totally narrows it down."

"It might not, but that does," Flack remarked, pointing at a guy currently wrapped around a young woman in a very tight, short black dress.

"I hope that is his girlfriend and I think I just got a social disease," Gus replied with a shudder.

Flack smirked as they moved in, motioning to the uniforms that had come up behind them. "Billy Travers," Flack announced, grabbing at the kid as soon as he looked up, "you are under arrest for the murder of your father, Walter Travers."

Gus had placed a hand on the shoulder of the girl Billy had been grinding against. "Get off me!" she screamed, her elbow connecting with Gus' nose, blood instantly spouting to the surface as she was knocked off her feet at the unexpected movement.

The uniforms sprung to action handcuffing the young woman for assault as Flack continued to read Billy his rights, "the attempted murder of Grace Travers, your mother, yeah, that's right she's still alive." He sneered at Billy, dragging him off until he saw Gus cradling her face, her hands bloodied. He shoved Billy at a uniform. "Stick them both in the squad car, we'll meet you at the 116. Sunshine, can't turn my back for a second can I," he said, pulling her to her feet and leading her out of the frat house.


	6. Allison Foley

_Chapter 6: Allison Foley_

_You bartend down on fourth_  
_Your parents pay insurance_  
_And the Parson's Audit course_  
_Over-schooled and uninspired_  
_A trust fund up your nose_  
_All that wasted talent but, uh_  
_Ain't that how it always goes?_

_-Better Than Ezra_

* * *

After convincing Flack that she didn't need to go to the ER, but after he had called Jo to interview Billy in her place, Gus paced in front of the observation window. She tried to not fume while she watched Flack question Jules Roday, Billy Travers' girlfriend, and the one who had given her what was sure to be two black eyes in the morning. She tried to ignore the water from her ice pack dripping down her arms, making her sweater stick to them and itch. She wondered how Jo was doing with Billy, though she imagined it was going fine. Flack had already run through Jules' story twice and was picking it apart for the third time.

"Tell me again," Flack was pressing on. Jules gave some snarky retort and Gus could see the muscles tighten in the back of his neck as he attempted to keep his cool. Even though the had booked both of them, they could ask for a lawyer at any second and any headway they may have been making would come to a screeching halt. Gus was actually shocked that neither pampered college kid had lawyered up yet, she reached over to knock wood, not wanting to jinx them. She leaned back in time to hear Flack say, "Okay, Jules, I'm going to let you in on a little secret, everyone has it in them to do something like this, everyone!" Gus didn't have to see his face to know his emotion and know he was thinking about Simon Cade and that dark night, she had to force herself to not bust into the interview room. Jules still protested that her dear Billy couldn't have murdered his father and nearly beat his mother to death, confidently pointing out that they had been dating over five months. Gus smirked at this, it growing wider as Flack shot back with, "I usually like to wait at least six months before I can attest to someone's lack of homicidal tendencies."

It was Jules' retort of "you're kind of a bitch, you know that?" that caused Gus to sling open the door to the interview room, throwing her melting ice pack on the table in front of the younger woman, causing the condensation to spray her in the face.

"No, he's kind of a jerk, I'm kind of a bitch. Now, where exactly did you go after the hunt for the totes perf Tom Cruise costume?" Gus asked as she slid out the chair next to Flack and settled in.

Jules sighed, a small snort escaping her perfectly sculpted nose, "we went back to my room and hung out until it was time to go get booze for the party."

"And where did you go to get booze?" Gus pressed on, ignoring Flack looking at her out of the corner of his eye.

"The liquor store over on Bleecker, we go there for all our parties," Jules replied, as if this was common knowledge.

"Did anyone else go with you?" Flack picked up the line of questioning.

"I already told you know!" Jules protested. Gus and Flack exchanged a look, her agitation could mean she was hiding something or that she was about to ask to speak to her attorney.

Flack nodded, making a note on the pad in front of him, "and where did you go after that?"

"I had to go get ready for the party and Billy had to go bring the booze to his frat house. And once again," she said, glaring at Flack, "I didn't talk to him again until I got to the party around 11."

Gus slid that Flack had in front of him towards her, tapping a pen against it. "So you left the liquor store at 7 and didn't get to the party until 11. It took you four hours to get ready?" she asked, drumming her fingers on the table impatiently.

Jules rolled her eyes, "yes, I know it might be hard to believe, but this does take time." She gestured up and down her body, "and some women actually like to put effort into their appearance." She glared, looking Gus up and down, taking in her hastily grabbed and slightly frumpy sweater and basic trousers.

Flack cut in as he sensed Gus' hackles rising, realizing this could turn into a cat fight in a second if he didn't step in. "When you arrived at the party, was Billy already there?"

"Yes!" Jules snapped, looking back at Flack, "how many times do I have to tell you the same thing? Now where is Billy, I want to talk to him. Can't I at least get a water or something?"

"As many times as it takes, Jules, until I am convinced you aren't leaving anything out. Billy is being questioned by another detective. Seeing as you are being so accommodating and patient," Flack said, though his sarcasm was clear, "I'm sure Detective Broussard could get you a water."

Gus looked at him, knowing he was trying to get her out the room, but not liking being reduced to an errand girl. "Yeah, sure, I could use a coffee myself," Gus said, though her jaw was set as she rose. She grabbed at what remained of her ice pack, "and I could probably use some more ice." She strode out of the room, slamming the door behind her as Flack said, "let's start from the beginning."

* * *

They grilled both Billy and Jules throughout the night, it wasn't until daybreak that Jules finally asked for an attorney. Flack was frustrated enough at that point that he was more than happy to pass her off. He joined where Gus was observing Jo still questioning Billy, both of them looking beyond exhausted. "She's tenacious," Gus said, gesturing with her chin.

"And then some. I'm going to grab a coffee, you, oh never mind, I'll be right back with two." He was back, but not with coffee. "We gotta get over to the lab," he said, rapping on the window to the interview room.

"Did they find something?" Gus asked, wondering why he seemed so suddenly on edge.

Flack shook his head, "no, I just got a confession." Gus looked back and forth between him and where Billy was slumped at the table. "Some guy over at Riker's says his cellmate confessed to killing a couple in their sleep last night over in Jamaica Estates."

By the time they got up to the lab, Gus had pulled up all the information on both cellmates. They briefed Mac on Manny Ravarra, the piece of trash drug dealer who had supposedly confessed to his cellmate, Owen Hicks, to killing the couple right before he got picked up on an outstanding warrant from his recent escape from a prison upstate.

"I find it hard to believe he would just casually admit to murder!" Jo exclaimed.

Mac looked equally disbelieving, "Grace Travers looked me in the eye and identified her killer. Don, head over to Rikers and see if he is for real." Gus and Flack both turned to leave but Mac cut them off, "Take Danny with you. I want Gus to take another run at Billy and I need Jo in the lab."

They all scattered accepting their assignments without argument, even if Gus' attempt to re-question Billy yielded no new information, more of his protestations of innocence and him finally asking for a lawyer. She walked him over to booking with a sigh, knowing that if the lab didn't come up with something to match Grace Travers id, the judge would probably let the young man out on bond. She headed back to the lab taking a call from Flack on her way, he sounding much more bemused than Danny did, the latter sewer diving based on the information they had gotten at Riker's. Manny claimed to have dumped the murder weapon, a crowbar, in the sewer and now Danny was tasked with trying to see if the fugitive was telling the truth. "Don't rib him too much, blue eyes, or he'll drag you down with him next time," Gus drawled with a grin.

"I don't do sewers, or dumpsters, babe. Hey, Messer, how's it going?" Flack yelled down into the sewer.

Gus didn't hear Messer's reply, but she could tell by Flack's snort it was sarcastic. "Don't poke the rapid dog, Don Flack! Gotta go, I have to go tell Mac I didn't get anything else from Billy Travers and ignore his look of disappointment. Catch up with you later?" She hung up, going to face her Uncle, who did indeed give her a disappointed look. "I don't know what to say, Mac, I tried, he just kept saying the same thing over and over. We've worked him over, he's sticking to his story and he lawyered up."

Mac rubbed a hand over his face looking weary. "I'm going to go talk to Grace Travers in the hospital, they said she might be up for a few questions, come with me."

Gus noticed it was a demand not a question, but didn't push the matter. They didn't say much on the trip to the hospital and Gus held back when they arrived, letting Mac introduce them both.

Grace Travers lay battered and broken looking in her hospital bed, Gus was amazed she was able to speak and wasn't in a coma. "Come closer," Grace beckoned, "what did you say your name was again?" she asked right after Mac had introduced them.

Mac and Gus exchanged a look. "I'm Detective Mac Taylor, with the crime lab. I came to your house last night after you called 911."

"I called 911?" Grace asked bewildered.

Gus felt a sinking feeling in her gut, taking stock of Grace's wounds. She pulled the woman's chart from its slot by the bed, flipping through it. She was by no means a neurologist, but the notes contained within spoke to severe head trauma, something which she had done some work with.

Gus barely registered the conversation happening, trying to make out what the notations and short hand from the chart until she heard Grace exclaim, "No, no, he didn't, I did no such thing, he never would have hurt me or my husband. Why did you come here? Who are you again? Leave my family alone!" Her monitors began to beep as her heart rate and blood pressure spiked, causing a nurse to rush into the room.

Gus knew their visit was over and could tell that Mac was less than pleased. "So I'm going to go out on a limb and say that wasn't what you were expecting," Gus remarked as they stood in the hallway after being ushered out of Grace's room.

"Not in the least. I'm telling you, Augusta, she looked at that photograph and identified her son as who hurt her," Mac said, his shoulders squared with certainty.

Gus gave a small shrug, "I'm not saying she didn't, Mac, but she certainly isn't saying so now. But I looked at her chart, she's suffered severe temporal lobe trauma, at the very least she is probably suffering retrograde amnesia. We need to get her records over to Sid, he would be better able to tell us how reliable her identification is."

"Are you saying I made a mistake?" Mac looked at her sternly.

Gus shook her head, "nope, not going there. I'm just saying she isn't agreeing with her id now and a defense attorney will be all over that like flies on honey."

Mac nodded, looking weary, "let's see what the lab has come up with, Danny found a crowbar in the sewer."

"I'm sure that made it all worthwhile," Gus drolled.

* * *

"I can't believe that scum was telling the truth," Gus huffed while watching from the hallway as Danny processed the crowbar from the sewer.

Flack gave a shrug, "once a scumbag, I guess." He glanced briefly at his phone, "judge just let Billy out on bail."

"Not surprised, especially with Grace recanting, or not remembering, Mac is less than pleased," Gus said with a sigh. They both leaned in as Danny shook his head angrily.

"That doesn't look good," Flack said, tightening his jaw.

Gus raised her eyebrows, "I'm getting the feeling he went sewer diving for no reason. How was the drive back by the way?"

"Let's just say I rolled all the windows down," Flack smirked, taking in Gus' disgusted expression, "don't worry, sunshine, I made him cover the seat too."

Danny came out, snapping his gloves off and throwing them into the trash with more force than needed. "Damn liar! Rust from the crowbar doesn't match the scene. Can't believe I got down in the sewer for that clown."

"His story was pretty convincing, Dan-o," Flack replied with a nod.

"Real convincing, how did he know?" Danny contemplated.

Jo's drawl sounded from behind them, a satisfied Adam striding next to her. "I might be able to clear that up!" She went on to explain the ruse she pulled on Owen Hicks, Manny's cellmate, with Adam playing the convincing role of mad scientist/polygraph tester and how Owen folded telling them how he was ratting Manny out in hopes that Manny would get sent to the join in-town and closer to his girlfriend in Queens. Manny had apparently overheard the rookie uniforms talking at the 116 when Billy and Jules were being questioned and had concocted the scheme, complete with getting his loving girlfriend to throw the crowbar in the sewer.

"That's an awful lot for a prison transfer, and a good catch all y'all," Gus said, gesturing around, not able to hold back a smile at Ada's satisfied grin.

"What did I miss?" Mac asked, coming up to the crowd in the hallway. They were looping him in when Lindsay came running up, tablet in hand.

"I found a connection!" she announced. They all stared, waiting. "The glass we found on the bed, it is actually a special laminate from a company that makes security windows and walls." Her grin grew wider, "and when I ran the employees through the database, I found a worker named Paul Benson that used to live at Traver's house. He was just released from prison after serving eight years for rape and now is working at their Glassphemy instillation."

"That wall people throw bottles at to let out their aggression?" Adam asked.

"Maybe I should try that," Jo quipped.

"Maybe so," Mac teased, "but for right now, Danny and Flack, go bring Benson in for questioning. Gus, head over to Special Vics and see what you can get on the original rape case."

Flack and Gus exchanged a look. "Can't I just pull the file, Mac?" she asked, trying to ignore everyone else staring at her. "Never mind, on my way," she said, upon his returning glare.

* * *

"Long time no see, Broussard, and fully clothed!" Ramirez teased as soon as she entered their unit.

"Erm, yeah, guess I was busy," Gus said, trying to not blush, especially as she realized Doyle had spotted her and was exiting his office with haste.

Even though they had seen each other and worked cases together since then, and she was back with Don, Gus found it hard to look at Doyle without thinking about their clothes thrown around his living room. Which was precisely why she hadn't tried harder to keep better in touch with him while she was in New Orleans and while she balked when Daddino threatened to send her up here.

"So you do remember how to get up here. What, homicide run out of coffee?" Doyle teased, smiling at her, with apparent comfort and ease.

'Get it together, Broussard,' Gus chided herself, 'see, he is fine with it. You are an adult, act like it!' "Finally got tired of drinking motor oil, Doyle. Actually I am up here about a case, Paul Benson from eight years ago."

Doyle raised his eyebrows, "you confuse this for the file room, Broussard?"

"Taylor requested I come and ask around about it, he might be connected to case we caught last night. Man beaten to death in his bed, wife's pretty bad too," Gus replied.

Doyle nodded, "I saw that on the news, they said something about the son being in custody, though."

"You know the news, they never wait on the science. Anyhow, I know you weren't around but was anyone?"

"Come in to my office, and I'll see what I can get you. Ramirez, grab Gus a coffee, extra cream and half a sugar."

Gus tried to ignore her stomach as she realized Doyle still remembered how she took her coffee, but was able to cover her emotions with a grin as Ramirez yelled, "does it look like I'm a wearing a skirt and am your secretary? Broussard can get her own damn coffee!"

Doyle sat at his desk, pulling up the electronic file, looking at Gus still standing there. "You can sit, Broussard, I don't bite."

"I know," Gus replied, closing her eyes as her voice cracked. Could she be more awkward? She sat on the edge of the seat in front of his desk, her spine straight.

He stopped typing, his hazel eyes boring into her. "Gus, really, relax. I got the hint when you didn't return any of my phone calls. Also, I heard Junior finally got his head out his ass and dragged you back up from New Orleans."

"He did not drag me back, I came willingly!" Gus protested, realizing Doyle was smirking at her, "I will give you the bit about getting his head out of his ass, though," she ended with her own smirk.

Doyle nodded, "good, I'm happy for you, kid, sincerely. You deserve it. And I don't want things weird between us, especially since I've been trying to steal you from Daddino since you got back from the swamp. He says you won't budge though." He studied her carefully before finally saying, "that still the case?"

"I don't know, what you offering?" Gus retorted, forcing bravado, not wanting things to be weird between them either. Other than that one night, they had worked pretty well together, and it might be nice to have an alternate option if Daddino decided she couldn't be partnered with Flack or if Jo really did take her place.

"Bad pay, crap hours, victims who will break your heart, you know the usual," Doyle said with a grin. Gus rolled her eyes. "No wonder I keep losing people. Less on-call shifts than homicide, victims that can actually tell you what happened and better coffee. Plus, unless you want to be a 3rd grade the rest of your career, room for actual advancement. You hear Fields got bumped up to Deputy Chief?"

Gus shook her head, "must have missed that memo, I'm not supposed to be saluting you are anything am I?" she said, reaching for his nameplate.

Doyle laughed, "still a Loo, don't think I'm meant for higher level brass. At least not yet. But back to you..."

Gus rapped on his desk with a smile, "how about back to Paul Benson, clock is ticking."

"Tenacious, great skill in an SVD first grade detective," Doyle said hitting send on the electronic file.

"Jimmy, let it go! Who worked the case?"

Doyle pulled off a sheaf of papers, "speaking of Fields, looks like it was her and some detective named Carson. Looked like he retired shortly after, good luck there. You could try Fields, but she is probably at some fundraiser or cloistered in some meeting at 1PP." He glanced at the clock, "or home in bed, which is the only perk of being Brass that I can see."

"Yeah, why are you still here, Lieutenant?" Gus asked, taking the offered papers.

"Had a feeling I should stay, glad I did. Now how about we grab you the original case file and a good cup of coffee before you have to head back to the pit?"

Gus smiled, excited at the thought of good coffee and glad the tension was dissipating between the two of them. "Sounds like a plan."

Doyle accompanied her back down to homicide. "So I heard Mac hired some hotshot from the Feds."

"Why, you want her number?" Gus teased.

"Hot SHOT, I said hotshot," Doyle said, though Gus thought she detected a hint of color rising to his cheeks.

She stopped short, cocking a hand on her hip. "Jameson Doyle, how is that you made such a big deal about being eight years older than me, but that doesn't seem to matter when the woman is the older one?"

"This is why I don't ever tell anyone what Jimmy is a nickname for," Doyle huffed, catching a uniform staring at them.

Gus laughed, "lighten up, Jimmy! Yes, Jo is quite the hotshot, and hot, and lovely. And trying to make me useless, so you might find me begging at your door soon enough."

Doyle thought he sensed worry in Gus' expression, but could tell she was trying to keep her chin up. Something she was good at even when she was drowning. He found himself reaching out and squeezing her shoulder, "offer always stands, kid."

"Thanks, Doyle. Now if you don't mind, I've got a coffee to drink and some reading to do and you should probably head home while you can. I promise I won't be a stranger."

"I'll hold you to that, Broussard," Doyle said, giving her a mock salute before heading back upstairs.

* * *

Gus was still going through the case file when Danny and Flack returned, after processing Paul Benson and shoving him in an interview room and letting him cool his heels. She took in both of their disheveled appearances. "So I take it he came calmly and willingly?" she remarked.

"Yeah, something like that. Thanks to Spiderman over here, nobody had to fish him out of the glass tank," Danny said, pointing at Flack and pulling up a chair next to her.

"Spiderman, playing hero again, Don?" Gus teased, though her forehead creased with concern.

Flack stopped himself from reaching over their desks to run his hand across the creases. "I'm fine, babe. Shut it, Messer, like Lindsay doesn't freak out every time you get a paper cut. What do we know about Benson?"

"Kid had everything going for him back in 2002. Football star, captain of the debate team, popular, wealthy, headed for the ivies, the whole nine," Gus said.

"He's the douche we loved to hate in every John Hughes' movie," Danny joked, looking over Gus' shoulder, "whoa, he was even dating the prom queen?"

"Apparently dating her wasn't enough," Gus said, taping at a highlighted transcript and sliding the file over to Flack.

He started to read, "I told him I wanted to wait and that if he loved me, he would respect that I wanted to wait, but he grabbed my arms and pinned me down." Flack shook his head, "so one day he is Harvard bound and the next he is Riker's bound?"

"Looks that way, at least for eight years up until a week an a half ago," Gus added.

Danny was looking though the evidence folder, or lack there of. "Doesn't look like they had anything other than her statement."

"Classic he said, she said," Flack remarked, flipping through the transcripts.

Gus raised her eyebrows, "except for the part where his parents testified against him. I already called them in, Jo is going over their statement now."

Both men looked at her curiously. "The plot thickens," Flack replied.

Danny pulled out his buzzing, "it thickens even more, Hawkes just matched the soil from Paul Benson's boots to soil from the crime scene."

"Looks like you two need to see what Paul has to say about his whereabouts. I'm going to go join Jo in interviewing his parents."

Gus slipped in to the interview room, a sympathetic look on her face as she set two bottles of water in front of the visibly distraught Nina and Steve Benson. "Please, continue," she said, sitting next to Jo.

"Paul refused to have any contact with us after the trial, he cut us off for betraying him," Steve remarked, his voice catching in his throat, gratefully uncapping the bottle and taking a long drink. Gus felt her heart clench for the man.

Nina sighed, wearily, "we moved trying to put it all behind us."

"So Paul was digging in the dirt looking for your old spare key, not knowing the locks had been changed because you moved," Jo stated, looking at them knowingly. The Bensons stared back at her, their grief raw and palatable.

"Mr. and Mrs. Benson, your son broke into that house thinking it was you that he was beating to death," Gus spelled out carefully as Jo pushed a box of tissues in their direction saying, "I am so sorry for you both."

They left, giving the couple some time to gather themselves privately. "I'm going to hug Tyler tight around his neck the next time I see him," Jo remarked, "I don't even care if we are in public. Can you imagine, killing your parents because they did what was right, not covering up your wrong?"

"Blood isn't always thicker than water," Gus replied, thinking of a similar conversation she had what seemed like eons ago with Flack.

Danny and Flack emerged from the other interview room a few minuted later, luckily after the Bensons had left, shoving Paul at a pair of uniforms. "Jerk bragged about how he had spent his entire time in prison waiting to off his parents," Danny said, a look of disgust on his face, "he brings new meaning to bad seed. I need a drink, but I think I need to go tuck Lucy in more."

"That sounds like a wonderful idea, I think I am going to go do the same with Ellie, even though she has hopefully been asleep for hours," Jo said, looking at the clock.

"Night, y'all," Gus called after them before turning to Flack, "I feel like we could use a drink too, especially after you tell me what Danny meant by you playing Superman."

Flack slipping an arm around her waist, "I'm telling you it was nothing."

"I'm betting it was how you got that, though," she said, running her fingers lightly over the abrasion on his temple.

"Was just trying to match your black eyes, though you did a frighteningly good job covering them up." He suppressed a shudder, trying to not think about how she had gained that knowledge.

"Jules must have just hit me funny, they barely bruised, but back to that drink, your bar or mine or Sully's?"

"Sully's, they have food, neither of us do," Flack remarked, leading the way.

"Trust you to know the contents of both of our kitchens, Flack!" Gus called after him, going to grab her bag.

* * *

Tucked into a booth with burgers and beer, Flack told her about chasing Paul Benson down and she filled him on her visit up to Special Vics, taking note of how his eyes turned stormy when she mentioned Doyle's attempts to get her to transfer. "You're not jealous, are you blue eyes?" she asked, taking a pull of beer.

Flack ferociously chewed on his burger, "no. I just like having you where I can keep my eye on you." Gus glared at him. "Not like that, sunshine, just because I know nobody is going to have you back like I will."

"Which would be fine if Mac wasn't making it a point to not put us in the field together," she remarked.

"So you noticed that too? Any guesses what that is about?"

Gus wrinkled her nose, "I think it is all part of his plot to get us married off and moving out to the suburbs. Probably next to Lindsay and Danny with six kids between us." Flack started chocking on the beer he had just taken a swallow of. "Jesus, Don, I know I'm not the easiest person to deal with all the time, but your don't have to die to get out of being with me!" she teased, moving to the other side of the booth to pound on his back.

Flack cleared his throat, taking another, more successful, drink of beer. "Ha, ha, ha, babe. I just didn't know Mac was plotting against us and I just was shocked by the thought of you living anywhere off the island," he finished pulling her in for a kiss. When they broke apart, he trailed his fingers over her face and down to her collarbone, squeezing her upper arm gently, "I want you to be happy, Gus, always have, so if you think you'll get more out of Special Vic's, I don't want to be the one holding you back. I've done that too much already."

"Don, no you haven't," Gus protested, "if anything, I've been my own biggest enemy. You helped me to be a detective in the first place, remember?! But the idea of something different, and without clashing with Mac or worrying about Jo showing me up, it is appealing." She looked up at him, her eyes wide and serious.

"You're thinking about it, aren't you?" Flack asked, his face grave.

Gus gave a small shrug and took another long drink of beer, "it has its bonuses, but if you don't think I should...I can tell you have issues with Jimmy."

"It isn't Doyle I have issues with," Flack replied, stressing Doyle's last name.

"Don, we've been through this, it was one night and you were sleeping with Jess and I didn't think you and I-" she broke off, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

Flack flared his nostrils, "I know it isn't fair, and I know it was one night, it's just you two seem to have this thing."

Gus threw her hands up, "we worked an intense case, we spent a lot of hours in surveillance together. He saved my life, twice, and you had moved on!"

Flack moved his own hand to trace her scar, "he almost got you killed and I didn't move on I..." he trailed off.

"See, you can't even finish it. If you don't want me to transfer, just say so, Don!" Gus implored.

He moved from tracing her scar and hooked a finger under her chin, "you do what you need to do, I trust you, I love you, Gussie, have for a long time, I didn't ever stop."

Gus knew what he was saying even if he wasn't spelling it out. He may have loved Jess, he may have been with her, but there always would be, always had been, a deep connection between them. "I love you too, Don, more than I ever thought I could love someone, but I think I need to try this, on my own, without you, without Mac, for me."

Flack nodded, "then by all means, go do it. If it doesn't work out, I know Daddino will take you back. You just better hope I don't end up with some newbie who doesn't know his or her ass from a hole in the ground."

"Duly noted, Detective, just promise me you'll talk to Daddino with me so I don't chicken out?" Flack nodded. "Good, then. Now, no more work talk, alright, Don?" she said, moving closer to him, pouring them both more beer.

"Sounds perfect to me, sunshine," he replied, clinking his glass against hers.

* * *

_**A/N: Thanks to my faithful readers (even those who don't review) and to those who give me such great feedback and make this so worthwhile, especially GeorgeAndrews, SomebodyWhoCares, hap. , PsychoGeek and butterflywings27**_


	7. Miss You

Chapter 7: Miss You

"Like a band-aid, Broussard, just rip it off," Gus said to herself, hovering outside her Captain's door, Flack standing just off to the side, a dimpled smirk taunting her.

"You planning on standing there all day, Broussard?" Daddino uttered from his desk, "you acting as my official greeting committee?" Gus glared at Flack as he laughed, stepping hesitantly over the threshold. Daddino studied her, "Jesus, Broussard, what have you done now?"

"I had to consult on a case," Gus blurted out, feelingly suddenly far less sure of her decision. Homicide had been a lifeline for her, sure she had been bounced around before, but with the exception of her exchange, it had always been someone else calling the shots and now she was the one asking for a transfer. Perhaps in her worries of being replaced she was actually creating a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Daddino gave a small growl, "were you using your shrinking powers for evil? Who should I expect a call from this time, the Commissioner, the Mayor, please tell me not anybody from the White House!"

"She's trying to make things easier on you, Cap, freaking Doyle sweet talked her into going up there since he's shorthanded," Flack announced from behind her, knowing she was losing her nerve. Not that he wanted her to go, but there was a cloud of 'what ifs' hanging over them that he was tired of. He wasn't going to hold her back, especially since he knew she did damn well with special victims since she could use her background and could get information other cops couldn't. He wasn't crazy with the idea of her working day in and day out with a guy she had slept with; but he did trust her, resolutely, and he wasn't going to be a hypocrite either. They had stayed up for hours talking the night before, Gus weighing out the pros and cons of rotating up to SVD. Flack had vacillated between playing Devil's advocate and being supportive, hoping he was getting it right on when she needed what. Sure, it would suck not having her as his partner in the field, but having her happy as his partner in life was worth far more than working cases with her.

"Thank Christ!" Daddino exclaimed, reaching for his phone with a grin on his face.

"Way to make a girl feel wanted, Cap!" Gus said, feeling a bit wounded.

Daddino gave her a look, "you're a good cop, kid, but you two have given me heartburn since you got back." They both stood there, waiting for him to continue. He reached for a bottle of antacids as if to punctuate his point. "What if one of yous got hurt, bad? Or what if knocked her up?"

Gus muttered, "I've got a doctoral degree, I know how to use birth control," under her breath, Flack catching her words and snorting, though their Captain was too busy calling upstairs. "I never said this was permanent," Gus said, loudly.

"Yeah, that was her, Jimmy," Daddino said with a chuckle, "and she's your problem now, at least until you can get staffed properly." He listened for a moment, "nah, just fill out a 672, don't bother with HR."

Flack and Gus looked at each other, rolling their eyes as Daddino walked Doyle through the nuts and bolts. "You still sure about this, sunshine?" Flack asked as Gus chewed on the inside of her cheek. She nodded, though she didn't say anything out loud. "As you said, it isn't permanent, a couple of rotations, see how you like it, see if we can survive down here without you."

This finally elicited the smile he had been trying for. "I'm sure you'll do just fine, Detective."

"Yeah, yeah, you just better hope I don't get stuck with Lafferty," Flack teased.

"Lafferty won't work with you, Junior," Daddino said, hanging up, "you're flying solo until this one decides where she belongs." Gus knew he was just kidding, but she still pursed her lips. "Oh, don't give me that, Broussard, it's more I don't want to put anyone on short-term disability trying to lug your personnel file upstairs." Her glower grew along with a sudden sense of remorse. Was she being hasty? What would people think? "Get her out of here, Flack and upstairs before she changes her mind!" Daddino exclaimed, causing Flack to lead her gently away by the elbow saying, "don't let him fool you, Gus, he's just covering for how much he's going to miss you, he complained the entire time you were in New Orleans." "Nobody whined more than you, Junior!" Daddino yelled after them.

* * *

"You don't have to walk me into the classroom, Don, I promise I won't cry," Gus teased as Flack stepped off the elevator with her.

He shook his head but didn't move from her side. It was fairly quiet, a marked difference from the constant state of chaos of the pit, which had the added downside of being right by the precinct entrance on the way to booking leading to a never-ending parade of skels. "Coffee mean that much to you, Broussard?" Ramirez asked with a grin as she entered.

"Axe me," Gus drawled, starting to head to Doyle's office.

"Hold up a sec," Flack said, moving in her path, his long strides easily reaching Doyle's office before she could.

"What the hell, Flack?" she yelled after him, the door shutting behind him the only reply.

Ramirez took in her posture an expression, saying, "so how about that coffee, huh, Broussard?"

Gus stomped after him, taking the offered mug, pouring coffee into it and slamming the carafe back into the machine. "I don't need looking after," she snapped at Ramirez.

He held his hands up, "I didn't say you did."

"I thought by not being under Mac's thumb I thought I would be ditching these overprotective overtures," she huffed, taking a long drink of coffee.

Ramirez poured his own mug of black coffee, taking a drink before setting it down. "Look, I'm lucky if a relationship lasts to morning, so I probably don't know what the hell I'm talking about, but it can't be all bad having someone worried about you, that loves you that much." He shrugged, picking his mug back up, "but I wouldn't blame you if you want to kick his ass," he ended with a smile.

Gus nodded, turning in her heel and striding back out to the pen, ready to bust in to Doyle's office and tell Flack to knock it off. Flack was already leaving though, his eyes looking more stormy than she would have liked. She peered around him, looking in at Doyle who was sitting at his desk, his legs kicked up on top of it in a pose of complete relaxation, even if his tensed jaw told a different story. "Don," she half-growled softly.

"I know you'll do fine, Gus, better than fine, great," he said, looking down at her, pushing her hair back off her shoulders, "just don't forget where you got that," Flack finished, tracing the scar that still remained on her neck.

Gus let out a breath, trying to keep her emotions in check, though she still snapped, "you can't be like this, Don. You can't be supportive last night and then freak out this morning. I haven't had parents for nearly twenty years, I can damn well take care of myself!"

"I know you can, I just-" Flack cut off, realizing Ramirez and a couple of other detectives were watching them raptly, "we'll talk about this later," he finished.

"Damn right we will!" Gus said, doing her own storming into Doyle's office, kicking the door closed behind her. She realized she still had a death grip on her coffee mug, setting it down on Doyle's desk with a sigh, much to his bemusement.

He hadn't budged, except he had placed both hands behind his head as he leaned back in his chair and remarked, "so settling right in, huh?"

"Aw, hell, Jimmy, I thought he was fine with this," she said, blowing her hair out of her face before taking another drink of coffee.

"He is, he's just doesn't like not having your back. I reminded him it wasn't the first time you two had worked separately."

Gus sniffed, "yeah, that apparently went over real well. It was a low blow to bring up Shirazi."

This caused Doyle to swing his legs off his desk and sit straight back up, "no, it wasn't. It was valid. I was running that case, I let you get disconnected from us, I let you get caught alone with him, I almost got you killed. I think about that night with every op we run, I can't tell you the last time I didn't pass a UC case off to Vice or Major Case, I've avoided bringing on young, female detectives because of it."

"That your way of telling me I'm getting old, Jimmy?" Gus said, trying to lighten the mood, not liking his grave tone or expression.

He shook his head, "don't start, Gus. Why do you think I was so insistent you wear my damn vest?"

"And so I did and you saved my life and we're good, and Don should be too!" Gus exclaimed.

"I can see where he is coming from, kid, on all levels," he gave her an intense and knowing look, causing Gus to squirm slightly in her seat. How was she supposed to know when she slept with him that he would end up being her boss? "Flack just wants to make sure I keep you as safe as possible."

Gus didn't back down. "So what, Don wants me to ride a desk because I'm only worth a damn when I am working with him?"

"He loves you, kid, accept it. He's aware of how good you are, he also knows you will jump in without looking if you think it will get the bad guy, and I have to agree."

"Like y'all are ones to talk!" she protested.

Doyle crossed his arms across his chest, staring her down another beat, "that's not my point, or his. I gave him my word that I wouldn't let you get in over your head." He put up a hand when she started to protest, "and then I told him to get the hell out of my office because you knew damn well how to take care of yourself and he was just pissed because there was no way his next partner would be half as good as you."

Gus rolled her eyes with a slight smile, "thanks for having my back, Jimmy. Now where's my desk?"

"Oh what, you want a desk? No wonder Parker calls you Princess! Don't look at me like that, Broussard, take the one in front of my office, I did say I would keep an eye on you and your boy is definitely in a higher weight class." Gus exited Doyle's office telling him wordlessly how he was number one. "That's no way to communicate with your commanding officer, Broussard!" he called after her with laughter in his voice.

* * *

Doyle hadn't been kidding about the crap hours or victims that would break your heart, and Gus quickly discovered that the only reason the pen was so empty was because the department had changed policy and now detectives from SVD and not patrol units were the required first on scene interviewers. Add to this assisting SOMU with pre-checks for Halloween, reminding sex offenders that they better keep their candy in their pants and their porch lights off and Gus spent nearly an entire rotation with barely speaking to or seeing any of her old teammates.

She and Flack were like ships in the night, worsened by the fact that she still hadn't given him a key (mostly as she was terrified that he might turn it down) and that he had worked a string of high-profile cases involving everything from rival gangs to a major jewelry heist gone bad to a heartbreaking kidnapping case. Gus hadn't even been able to follow along on the news, so embroiled in her cases; though she had received a brusque call from Mac requesting she pick him up at the hospital after his dust-up with the El Puno's, though he insisted it was nothing more than a scratch.

"Uncle Mac, you got shot, that's like calling this," she pointed at her neck, "a paper cut! But thanks for calling me."

Mac just shook his head, "knew you would shoot me again if you found out from someone else." She laughed but fell into silence as she continued to drive him home. "Don't be a stranger, Gussie," he said as he got out at his building.

"I'm not trying to be!" she pleaded, feeling guilty. Guilt than only grew after she finally caught up with Flack on a rare few hours they had off in common.

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" Flack remarked with a smirk.

"Considering I am naked and in your bed, I damn well hope so, Don!" she said, snuggling closer to him. His smirk spread to a dimpled grin, but he soon turned quiet and serious. "What's going on in there, blue eyes?" she asked, tapping him on the forehead, her other hand serving as a rest for her own head.

"Just been a busy and rough couple of weeks," he replied stoically.

"Tell me about it," Gus let out a sigh, thinking she just needed to give him a key, no big deal, so at least they could be in the same dwelling occasionally. She realized he was still staring off into space. "No, really, Don, tell me about it," she prodded, sitting up and pulling the sheet up around her.

Flack stretched, settling in with his hands propped behind his head. "Danny had to arrest his old patrol partner for staging that jewelry heist I was working."

"The bodyguard that got shot? He was in on it?" Gus said, shaking her head, sadly.

"Planned the damn thing. Danny was pretty shaken up, turns out the reason Belson had to become a bodyguard was because of some mess up back when they were partners, so now Danny is doing this whole 'what if it had been me' thing," he shook his head.

"We both know that sucks and doesn't do any good," Gus replied, making a mental note to give Danny a call if she actually got a free moment.

"No kidding," Flack said, putting an arm around her and pulling her closer to him. The Harris case was still sticking with him, more accurately having to tell Sally Anderson that her son was dead. He meant every word he had said to the woman, not that any of them provided any comfort. He let out a sigh, realizing Gus was staring up at him, her eyes turning forest green with worry, wide with concern. She didn't say anything, patiently waiting for him to come out with things at his own pace. "Don't look at me like that, sunshine, I feel like the meter is running," he teased, pulling her in to his chest and kissing her on top of the head. He released her after one more squeeze, saying "there was this mother-" his voice cracking slightly.

"A kid case?" Gus asked, frowning.

"Not really, college kid, revenge killing for some chick's fiancée but it wasn't even the right kid! It's just this woman, Sally, her husband died when Craig was little and he was all she had left and now..." he trailed off, finally shaking his head as if trying to fling off the case. "We got the killer, not that it matters."

Gus clamored over him, cradling his face in her hands, "it matters Don, it matters a lot."

He pulled his head back, out of her grasp, Gus tried to ignore the sting of the rejection. "Except it doesn't bring anyone back, now does it?" His eyes clouded, and Gus knew he was talking about far more than just Craig Anderson.

She stayed straddling him, refusing to let him retreat into himself again, placing a hand on each of his arms, tipping her head so it almost touched his. "It is as much closure as we are going to get in this realm, Don and that has to be enough, otherwise evil wins."

"Yeah, well it still sucks," he replied, slipping out from underneath her and off the bed, "I'm gonna order some food, what do you want?"

She wrapped the sheet around her, making a small growl of frustration, hating that he was shutting his emotions down and her out. "For you to know how much I love you and that I miss working with you," she said pleadingly.

Flack looked like he was about to make a sarcastic retort but bit it back while putting clothes back on, "I love you too, but that doesn't answer my question, so you're just going to have to like whatever I get," he teased, sidestepping any further emotional discussion and disappearing out of the room.

* * *

Gus let him be before going after him and she found him leaning against the sink in his kitchen, staring down into the drain like it held the answer to every great mystery. "I ordered from MasalaWala, should be here soon," he said, hearing her pad in to the room, not looking up.

"I miss living with you more than I miss working with you," Gus replied softly, pulling the sheet tighter around her, praying for him to look up.

He didn't, instead he bowed his head and gripped at the counter, his knuckles turning white and his jaw tensing. "You can't leave me again, Gus, I can't handle it," he said, more to the sink than her.

"I'm just trying out SVD, it's only been a couple of weeks, I'm right upstairs! Why did you say it was okay if it wasn't, Don?" she cried out, wanting to go to him but also feeling rooted to the floor. Her eyes flicked over the hastily hung mass art piece covering the hole in the wall, every night she answered his desperate, drunken calls welling up between them, her regret and guilt weighing her down until he finally looked up with something akin to resolution in his eyes.

"I'm not taking about what unit you are working in, Gus, I'm saying if we are in this, then we are all in, for good," he said, moving towards her with purpose, "and no dying on me," he added as he pulled her to him.

Gus looked up at him, trying to read his thoughts, frustrated he wasn't the open book to her he normally was. "I wasn't planning on it," she said with a wistful smile, "and I'm not going anywhere, except maybe to put on clothes before-" her sentence was interrupted by the door buzzer announcing the arrival of their food. "That happens," she remarked with a smile.

"Stick me with the bill, I see," he called after her.

"You're the one wearing pants," she yelled back.

When she exited the bedroom a few minutes later, she was surprised to see the bag of food still sitting on the counter until she heard Flack's voice and followed it to where he was pacing in front of a window, cell service not the best in his building. "A second one, Mac, really? And the Assistant Chief isn't willing to warn the public? You have to be kidding me!"

Gus stopped short, looking at him curiously, adrenaline already starting to course through her veins, whatever this was sounded important. Her heart began to pound harder as she heard Flack say the word 'sniper'. She swooped in on him the second he disconnected the call. "There is a sniper loose in the city? This is going to cause a panic. What did you say about Sid getting hurt? Is Mac butting heads with the latest head of FID again? When is the briefing, do I have time to go home and change?" She was practically bounding on the balls of her feet and Flack couldn't help but smirk. "Don't you dare laugh at me, Don!"

"I ain't laughing, sunshine, but I never understood how you can seem so damn excited when people are dying, maybe what they say about shrinks is true. Sid is going to be fine, apparently he got caught with an exploding bullet doing an autopsy on the second victim of this sniper. Yes, sniper, there is some nut job running around the city taking people out, but Chief Carver doesn't want to start a public panic, which Mac is real pleased about, so yeah, I guess he is butting heads with Brass again. You sure you two don't share a bloodline?" He stopped is getting ready to smile at her, "briefing is in twenty, but in case you forgot, you aren't going, you're working with SVD now, Gus."

"Damn it!" she swore, feeling suddenly deflated and disconnected, dropping to the couch.

"I know, tough break getting to stay here and actually sit down and eat, I'll be sure to eke out a tear for you later," he replied, pointing at the bag on the table, pausing from putting on his shoes to kiss her on the forehead. "In the meantime, stay away from windows in tall buildings, I'll try to update you when I can."

Gus wrinkled her nose in frustration, "are you sure I can't help?"

"There is nothing special about these victims, sunshine, so unless Doyle is willing to cut you loose, no. You can stay here if you want," Flack said, thinking it would be nice to know where she was an not have her on the streets while a sniper was also on them.

Gus shook her head sadly, "can't, gotta water Mrs. Potter's plants while she is on vacation and I don't have any clean clothes."

Flack gestured at the coffee stain on her shirt, "oh, so that wasn't some fashion statement I didn't get, good to know." He paused, thinking of her confession earlier. "Wait here a sec." He disappeared into the tiny kitchen and Gus could here him rustling around. He emerged, handing her a small brown envelope. "If you change your mind," he said, looking briefly at his watch before saying, "gotta go," and giving her a quick kiss and disappearing out the door in a flash.

Gus shook her head at his wake, still wishing she could have gone with him, realizing how much effort it was going to take to stay connected to the team while working with SVD. It was different from when she was undercover, then she was fully immersed in a case, playing a role where she couldn't afford the luxury of friendships or worrying about her lab family. Yes the lab was responsible for all forensic investigations of sexual assaults, but that usually meant working with lower level lab rats than 'her' people; now she was going to have to try to schedule time to meet up with them instead of naturally working along them in the normal course of an investigation.

Gus still felt like she needed to spread her wings with SVD though, if nothing more than to prove to herself that she was a good cop on her own, that she was truly legacy and not just being propped up by others. Despite her insistence with Don earlier about having taken care of herself and that her parents had been dead for nearly two decades, she still wanted to make them proud, make herself proud.

She realized she was still clutching the small envelope Don had given her and something was cutting into her palm. She opened the flap, shaking out the contents, breaking out a wide smile when the black and gold emblazoned key fell out. It wasn't just a spare key to his apartment, it had clearly been cut just for her, unless he had suddenly started consorting with another Saints fan. She thought about his words earlier about being all in, for good. Gus let out a breath that it felt like she had held for months, maybe they weren't so far apart in what they wanted after all.

* * *

_**So you, my dear readers, are in luck! I decided to take this year "off" of NaNoWriMo since I did the camp this summer and wrote an original work. This year my NaNo "novel" will be working on this story, so expect updates throughout the month. My word count is starting with this chapter and to win NaNo I have to write 50,000 words this month. I hope y'all are up for some great Gus/Don adventures! **_


	8. Speeding Up to Slow Down

**Chapter 8: Speeding up to slow down**

Despite feeling somewhat more sure-footed about her relationship with Don, Gus still wasn't able to concentrate on anything other than the fact that a sniper was loose in her city. After a brief stopover at her building to water her neighbor's plants and to suggest her doorman stay inside as much as possible, Gus found herself back up in the pen, much to the chagrin of her new teammates.

"Really, Broussard, in here on your day off? Trying to make us look bad or just a suck up?" one of them remarked as soon as she stepped foot off the elevator.

"Suck up would be one word for it," retorted Ramirez with a slight smirk. It was then Gus was sure Jimmy's closest ally in the department was aware of their history.

"I don't have to _try _to make you look bad, Lampole," she shot back to Andy, who glared at her for a moment before realizing she was already focusing her ire on Ramirez. "Hey, Alex, walk with me, would you? A got a case I want to consult with you on." With a beauty queen smile pasted on her face, he realized he would look like a jerk if he didn't comply.

"Look Broussard, I didn't mean any disrespect," he started as soon as they turned the corner away from prying eyes and ears.

Gus weighed her response carefully. "I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt, Ramirez, because we've worked together before and I know you are usually a good guy. But I just want to clarify something for you, I am in a happy and committed relationship with Don Flack and anything that may or may not have happened with me and Doyle in the past is going to stay there. He is now my commanding officer and I am not the type to sleep my way to the top. So are we good?"

Ramirez nodded, not enjoying the glint in the woman's eyes. He hadn't even meant for the retort to slip out. Sure he had given Jimmy a fair amount of teasing when Gus starting working with their team and he saw how the other detective looked at her when she wasn't paying attention, but he had been happy for his friend and grateful that he finally had moved on from that awful ex-wife of his. He also knew that Jimmy had been a little wounded when the pretty young detective went back down to New Orleans and lost contact, though the Lieutenant only admitted so after several servings of his namesake. "We're good, just wanted to make sure you aren't playing with him, Doyle's a good guy."

"I agree, Alex, he is a good guy, and I would like to think I haven't strung him along. If you have knowledge to dispute that, I am all ears, but I really hope you will generally keep all of your knowledge to yourself. It isn't easy being the new girl, even if I have worked with y'all before." Gus stared him down, happy they were of nearly equal height, even if he was a solid block of former ESU muscle.

"You two alright out here?" Doyle asked coming up behind the two detectives faced off in the hallway by the break room.

"Peachy, right, Ramirez?" Gus said, another bright smile pasted on her face. Ramirez just nodded, thinking despite her brilliant smile, she would happily stick a knife between his ribs if he crossed her. Doyle cocked his head at her, knowing that her smile was fake, but not wanting to step in, seeing how she had reacted when Flack tried to.

"Good to hear, now why exactly are you in here on your day off?" he asked, sincerely wanting to know, hoping that she wasn't detrimentally escaping into her work like she had before going back to New Orleans.

"Heard something about a sniper," she replied, raising her eyebrows at Ramirez as he made a hasty retreat.

"And that has what to do with Special Vics?" Doyle asked, making his way toward the fridge.

"Nothing specific, but I couldn't just sit at home staying away from windows when I knew there was plenty to do here." Gus paused, taking in Doyle's expression. "Everyone else is working the sniper case and I didn't have anything better to do, alright, Doyle?"

"You ever think about getting some friends not on the job?" Doyle asked.

"Sure, how do you meet yours?" Gus shot back, pouring herself a mug of coffee.

Doyle shook his head, "point made, Broussard, but you will take your comp time when this call rotation is up, I don't have the budget for extra overtime."

"Fine, fine," Gus said with a sigh as they walked back toward the pen.

"Now there is a sight for sore eyes!" came a drawl from the entryway.

All attention was quickly turned toward the lilting voice and attractive figure attached to it. Gus gave a small snort at flush that climbed up Doyle's neck. "Don't start, Broussard, I can send you home," he warned.

"Jo, what on earth are you doing here?" Gus asked, going up to her, her own drawl immediately more pronounced, much to the amusement of her new colleagues.

"Just working a little ol' sniper case. Might have seen something about it on the news," Jo said with a laugh.

Gus motioned for her to come in, pulling a chair up next to her desk. "Yeah, I did, also saw Carver's face after Mac agreed with that reporter, he looked madder than a cottonmouth. How's Sid by the way?"

"Oh, Carver was hopping mad, as for Sid, you know, he's a tough old coot!" Jo said with another laugh, her eyes shining.

Gus realized everyone was staring at the pair, and so she stood. "Everyone, this lovely creature y'all are salivating over is Detective Jo Danville from the crime lab, Jo this is a whole bunch of drooling idiots that aren't good enough for the likes of you," she said gesturing before sitting back down. "Now that we got that out-of-the-way, what can I do you for?"

Jo looked around at everyone suddenly entrenched in their work after Gus called them out and raised her eyebrows. "I found a mitochondrial match on some blood found at one of the scene's that comes back to a case Mac worked. A kidnapping from 12 years ago." Gus looked at her quizzically, wondering how she could help. Twelve years ago, she only saw Mac on the occasional school break and then spent most of her time with Claire, not to mention kidnappings were handled through Major Case. Jo took in her expression, "it was a sex offender case, I know y'all do monitoring checks this time of year, figured I would check in and see what you could tell me about Arthur Francis."

Gus booted up her computer, typing away, "sure, though I am not sure how it will be anymore help than Mac, he's got a brain like a bear trap, keep that in mind before you do anything wrong," she said with a chuckle. "Hmm," she said, after pulling up the record, "can't tell you much except he is the state of Florida's problem now, last known address is a skilled-nursing facility in Ocala, I can make some calls if you want, though," Gus said, wishing she could be more helpful.

Jo brushed her off, "oh no, don't worry about it, just wanted to make sure we weren't skipping over something. Plus, I've missed our SEC recaps, those silly fools in the lab don't know a touchback from a hole in the ground."

Gus laughed and then something sparked in her mind and she rose, gesturing. "You should get with Jimmy, he's the biggest fanatic I've met, even if he does cheer for Michigan," she said, yelling into Doyle's office where he was pretending to not eavesdrop.

"Most all-time wins, Broussard," he called back, coming from around his desk, and leaning casually against the door frame.

"Yeah, well look at your conference," Gus retorted, crossing her arms over her chest and cocking her head at him, though a teasing smile splayed on her face.

"Well at least he isn't cheering for Notre Dame," Jo said, looking back before the two of them, trying to discern their history, thinking she might need to make another phone call to Stella.

"Small blessings," Gus said, "I'll let you two talk pigskin, I'm going to go see if I can track down the social worker on my child abuse case." She made a hasty retreat, hoping the two would hit it off, or that Doyle wouldn't be ticked off at her later.

* * *

Gus did actually make headway on the abuse case she was working on, an eight year old used as a punching bag by a variety of his mother's boyfriend's, though the kid was so developmentally delayed they didn't have much to go on. She was finally able to get a neighbor to serve as a witness, even though the old man was insistent upon not getting involved in other's business and kept trying to use his hearing aids as an excuse to how he couldn't have seen or heard anything. The social worker she had tried to track down was MIA, but she was able to conjure up a cousin in Philadelphia that was willing to take in the child, she just couldn't get up to the city until the next weekend. Which is how Gus found herself driving out of the city, a couple of days later, trying to not curse traffic out loud with an impressionable child in the backseat, No matter how nonverbal he was, Gus didn't want to grow his vocabulary with the words she was thinking.

Flack seemed relieved she was headed out-of-town, if even for a short time, a third body falling victim and the city now on alert for the yet to be captured sniper. He tried to convince her to take her comp time down in the city of brotherly love, but Gus knew she would have a mountain of paperwork to attend to once she got back, not to mention she felt they still had some stuff to talk about.

The reunion with the child and his new caretaker didn't go as smoothly as she had hoped and by the time she got back into Manhattan, the pen was empty and the city sleeping safely thanks to the arrest Tom Reynolds. Gus skipped finishing up her paperwork and swung by homicide, learning from Parker that Flack had headed out hours earlier while also mentioning something about the crime lab needing her professional opinion on some videotapes that featured the rantings of the sniper. She shook her head, thinking it was actually nice to have been separated from the case, getting to play good cop helping a young boy start a new and better life instead of trying to pick apart the psychotic ramblings of a murderer.

As she stepped out into the inky night outside of the precinct, the autumn wind rustling leaves and trash in the gutters, Gus debated where to head. The weight of the key Don gave her seemed to call to her from the bottom of her tote, but she didn't want to seem desperate. Not to mention he might not even be home, he could be catching up with Danny. Gus dismissed this possibility, knowing that this late at night, the Messer family would be nestled in their apartment, happy to have made their city a little safer. She quickly hailed a cab, reciting Don's address before she could change her mind. She knocked softly on his door, only letting herself in when she didn't get a response. The apartment was dark, though the empty beer bottles sitting next to the sink told her he had been home.

The glow from his bedside lamp lit her way to his bedroom, where she crept in as quietly as possible. Don was sound asleep on his stomach, snoring softly, his head half-buried beneath his pillow, one arm dangling off the edge of the bed, the other tucked underneath his head. She picked up his discarded undershirt off the floor, slipping out of her clothes and into it before pulling the covers up over him and padding off to get ready for bed. Her movement much have woken him because Don had pulled himself to a sitting position and was reading the book that had rested on his night table by the time she returned after taking out her contacts and getting a glass of water.

"So the key worked, huh?" he remarked as she set the glass of water down and slipped in next to him.

"Nah, decided to practice my lock picking skills," she teased, peering around to look at the cover of the novel, "Grisham, really?"

"Too rough a week for Hemingway, besides, you're the one with all those awful James Patterson novels," he volleyed back, dog-earing a page and setting the book back down on the table.

"There is nothing wrong with a little brain candy now and then, Don," she scoffed, stretching and cracking her neck, realizing it had been too long since she had done yoga or had been to the chiropractor.

Don winced at the sound, "Jesus, sunshine, you making popcorn over there?" He reached over and massaged her neck, disliking the amount of tension he felt in it. "I thought moving over to Special Vics was supposed to be a good thing for you, babe."

"It is," she replied through gritted teeth as his fingers worked at the knots, "humping it through traffic down to Philly and back trying to make small talk with a kid on the spectrum and then hunching over mountains of paperwork all while wondering if anybody I knew got taken out by a sniper after hearing on the news that a cop got shot is not good for me, however."

He paused, looking slightly guilty, "I guess I shoulda called, huh? Sorry about that, I caught a beer with Messer and Ross once we wrapped up the case and after that I was wiped."

"It's fine, I didn't figure y'all had forgotten about me so quickly that you wouldn't call if one of you got shot. I'm glad you caught the guy, Parker said he was a piece of work. Is the cop that got shot alright?"

Don nodded, moving behind her for more leverage, his thumbs working from the muscles in her neck down to her shoulders. "Yeah, some red shirt from ESU, took one to the throat because he didn't keep his head down. Talked to Parker, huh? Still keeping tabs on homicide?"

Gus let out a small sigh as some of the knots began to loosen up, "just looking for you, blue eyes, missed you, enough to use your key."

"Your key, Gus," he corrected with a heated tone into her ear. "And I'm glad you did," he finished, his mouth following where his fingers had just been, Gus melting easily at his touch.

* * *

Gus woke the next morning finding the other half of the bed empty and cold, both elements carrying through the rest of the apartment, she shivered as she pulled a blanket around her and climbed out of bed. A note propped against the coffee maker informed her that Don had gone in to catch up on the paperwork he hadn't finished on the sniper case and that he hoped they could catch up later. She pulled back on her slightly wrinkled clothes from yesterday, pouring a mug of coffee before heading to her own place to shower and get ready for the day; all the while debating if she shouldn't bring over a couple of changes of clothes to Don' had a key made specifically for her, so obviously he didn't mind her being there, she had mentioned that he needed to bring things to her place on more than one occasion. Why was this seeming more difficult than last time; was it because before when she asked him to move in it was because she had turned down his marriage proposal and co-habitation was a consolation prize? It just seemed so much more weighted now, after all they had been through. A bit of closet space, and drawer cleared out, an extra toothbrush all seemed to take on meanings far bigger than the individual items themselves. Or maybe she was making too big a deal of it. One thing she knew for certain was that she needed to go by her local hardware store to have a set of her own keys cut to return the favor.

"Why can't you just go with it, Broussard? Why does everything have to have a bigger meaning? Maybe a key is just a key," she remarked to her reflection in the mirror as she finished applying her make-up. Though with each word, she knew the true reason she was questioning every move, every potentially hidden motive with them both, was that the stakes were so much higher for her now. She wanted to build a life with Don, and she wasn't sure she could fully live one without him.

She felt far more resolute about things as she stepped back into Special Victims. Her face must have conveyed her seriousness, as she was given an immediate wide berth and there was no banter thrown her way. Gus sat down at her desk, working on finishing up the reports on her child abuse case, knowing they would need to be sent over to Children's Services and the court as soon as possible. The errant social worker was less than pleased she had transported the child across state lines, but a Family Court judge had signed off on it and the lack of special needs foster homes made it a no-brainer in Gus' book.

After reading the obstinate civil servant the riot act and informing her she did know what she was talking about and wasn't some newbie patrol officer, Gus hung up the phone with a satisfied look on her face. At least until Doyle walked past her desk and did a double take. "Broussard, my office now!" he said, his tone far more gruff than she had ever heard, at least when directed at her.

"Yes, sir!" she yelped, rushing in after him, ignoring the snickers following in her wake.

"Shut the door," he ordered, sitting his coffee down and squaring off with her.

Gus felt immediately deflated, not liking the flinty appearance in his hazel eyes. "Look, Jimmy, I mean, Doyle, I mean, sir-" Gus stumbled over her words, feeling like the newbie she just had very much claimed she wasn't. "The judge signed off on it, with the cousin in Philly is the best place for the kid, the cousin is a Special Ed teacher for God's sake, has been begging the mother to take the kid for years!"

"Why are you here?" he growled.

Gus looked around in confusion, "because you called me in here?"

This caused Doyle's glower to grow. "At work, Gus. Why are you at work?" He held up her hand before she could answer. You've completed one full on-call rotation. Twenty eight days on and-" he paused pulling something up on his computer, "of the 97 cases that have come through this division in that time, you are the detective of record on twenty-three of them, care to explain yourself, Broussard?"

Gus swallowed compulsively, a sinking feeling in her gut. She thought she had done well over here, had given every case her all, just like she had in homicide. Sure she couldn't get to as many cases as she wanted to, sex crimes were lower priority in the crime lab than homicides, so many files got shelved until the lab could get to them; but Gus had made sure to track down every human lead she could, not letting up on anything that was within her control. But judging from the look on Doyle's case, she wasn't pulling her weight, maybe she shouldn't have gone home last night, or any night, she certainly had seen more of her apartment the last month than she had in a while... "I'm sorry, sir, I was just exhausted after driving back from Philadelphia last night after dropping off the Harper kid and maybe I should have stayed until I finished my paperwork, but I knew that court wasn't in session and I got here early enough that I figured I could get it to the clerk first thing, it won't happen again."

Doyle pounded on the stack of paper on his desk. "Damn right it won't, Gus! I've worked with you before, remember? I know what you can get like with your cases, I know how you will forget everything else to get that solve. But you can't keep doing that. It is why I was happy when you decided to go back down to New Orleans, figured cold cases would give you a break, why I didn't push Daddino too hard when he put you back in the freezer here. Max active open cases for my team is three, not," he paused again looking at his screen, "eight. Pass 'em off, Broussard and go the hell home. I wanted you up here because you are good, but also because I didn't want you to turn into a zombie again. Stop being a gunner before you burn yourself out."

"Am I in trouble because I am working too much, because I am too good of a cop? Are you serious right now?" Gus shot back, thoroughly confused.

"Yes I am serious. I told you I didn't have the budget for overtime, so you are damn well taking every last second of your comp time whether you wrote it down or not. I also promised a lot of people that I would keep my eye on you and make sure you had stopped burning the candle at both ends, so I am doing just that." He stared her down, waiting for her to follow his order, hoping she wouldn't argue. Doyle wasn't lying to her, she was a good cop and the part of him that wanted to look good for the Brass would have let her keep on forging ahead, but that was far out shadowed by the part of him that cared about her and wanted to make sure she stayed happy and healthy. He waited until she opened the door and started to step out of his office before calling after her, "and Gus?" She half-turned, looking at him over one shoulder, her expression slightly wounded and dejected but he knew he was making the right call. "About Jo, don't play cupid, I'm fine on my own." She gave him a small smile before passing off her remaining open cases.


	9. Waxing or Waning

**Chapter 9: Waxing or Waning?**

After being booted from homicide for wandering around looking dejected after not finding Don, along with Parker making fun of her and Doyle having called down to Daddino, she wandered up to the crime lab to see if she could steal anyone away for a cup of coffee. Sure, Doyle was probably correct, she had pushed herself the past couple of weeks, wanting to put her best foot forward in a new division, but she wasn't anywhere near as worn out as she had been during those dark days over the past couple of years.

The crime lab was its normal state of seeming pandemonium, a buzzing hub of activity and energy. She saw Sheldon as he rushed for the elevator to see Sid about an autopsy, found Mac and Jo in an intense bout of trial prep, was ignored by Adam who was busy listening on his headphones while working in the trace lab and could only assume that Danny must be out at a scene as she couldn't seem to find him on the floor. She couldn't remember when she had last been so happy to see Lindsay, who was heading toward the locker rooms. "Seeing as I have been sent home, I don't suppose you have time for a coffee, do you?" she asked, excitedly, catching up with her friend.

Lindsay cocked her head at Gus quizzically, but then smiled and said, "can do you one better, I'm actually headed to lunch." She held up her insulated bag.

"Lunch, Lindsay, it is 10am!" Gus said, looking at the clock.

Lindsay shrugged, "I'm working 6 to 3, saves on day care, Danny drops Lucy off on his way in so then she's only there for six hours. Which I feel better about and kids are expensive!"

Gus nodded, "make sense, but can we make this my treat and actually leave the building? I don't want to Doyle to find out I'm still here."

The sat in a café around the corner, Lindsay showing off photos of the Messer family out for Halloween. "Lucy is a very adorable sheep, and you do make a fetching Little Bo Peep, Linds," Gus said with a laugh before pointing, "Danny looks less than pleased, however."

Lindsay smiled slightly wickedly. "Yeah, he didn't take well to little boy blue, I told him he could be in charge of costumes next year."

Gus raised her eyebrows, "well that should be interesting."

Their conversation paused as their server brought them drinks and took their orders. "I can't believe I am actually getting to sit down for a meal I didn't cook!" Lindsay exclaimed.

Gus laughed and shook her head, "we seriously need to get you out more!"

"You're one to talk! Speaking of which, what did you do that got you sent home? Please tell me things weren't too weird between you and Doyle? Flack didn't freak out or anything did he?" Lindsay nearly pounced on Gus, a million thoughts rushing through her head. She had missed girls nights, would love to re-institute them, but it was so hard with Lucy and she wasn't sure if Jo would be willing and while she loved spending time with Gus, she also knew how much effort sustaining a relationship was, especially if you weren't married.

"Whoa, slow down, Montana!" Gus teased, "things are fine, more or less, with Jimmy. Yes, it is a little weird that he is my boss and I have seen him naked, but it was one time! Don sort of freaked out, but I think it was because he wasn't going to be able to keep his eye on me. He's just being overprotective, which I suppose is sweet. I don't think he loves the fact that Jimmy and I...have a connection," Gus chose her words carefully, "but he wants me happy and Daddino was giving us a hard time. It's good up there, maybe too good. I got sent home for working too much. Apparently you can only have three cases open at a time up there, some stupid FBI stat on optimal conditions and ever since that report in the Post, Brass is all over Special Vics being an optimal department." Gus made a face, hating when politics dictated police work, hating even more when tabloids did.

"So do you like it? I can't imagine transferring from the lab." Lindsay looked at her earnestly, like she was trying to consider what life would be like not a part of the crime lab and couldn't fathom it.

Gus contemplated her answer, earning more time to think as their food arrived. "It feels weird to say I like it, I mean these are the city's most sensitive and vulnerable victims, right? So I hate that I even have a job. It certainly is way different from when I was working undercover last time, but that was a big task force bust and this is, the day-to-day, seeing how horrible people can be, seeing how shattered the victim's are. I don't know think I could do it forever, but then being able to see the relief in someone's eyes when you've arrest their rapist or connecting an abused child with a family member that actually loves them and can treat them right...it's pretty amazing. It's only been a month though, less than, so I don't know. Jury is still out. Daddino isn't letting me come back to homicide for at least a couple of rotations anyway and they are way understaffed in Special Vics, so I'm there for now and it's good."

"How about outside of work?" Lindsay pressed on. They had danced around the subject the day they had gone shopping, Gus not saying much about how things were progressing in her relationship since returning from New Orleans and it wasn't like Flack was one to engage in locker room talk, not even with Danny and even if he did, Danny was too loyal to say anything.

Gus chuckled, "what outside of work, did you miss the part where I got sent home for working too much?" Lindsay just stared, chewing her food in waiting silence. "We're good, I think. He still seems to be holding back, but then again, so am I. I can't help but think he worries about what happened to Jess happening to me, but he could get killed in the line of duty too, we all knew what we were signing up for! Not to mention I did run away from him more than once, I don't really have the best track record with commitment. I want to rewind things and go back to how they were three and a half years ago, take back me being stupid."

"You know you can't, right, that so much has happened since then?" Lindsay replied, looking serious. "That doesn't mean it is a bad thing though, Gus, you both have grown so much since then, your experiences have made stronger and if you still want to be with each other despite all that, doesn't that make you a better couple?"

Gus fought the temptation to roll her eyes, she knew Lindsay was just trying to help and be supportive, yet it seemed an oversimplification. "Sage married woman advice before noon or cocktails, Linds, really?" she teased.

Lindsay took a breath, "you know that Danny and I have had our challenges, and I pushed him away more than once as well. Mind you I only rejected one marriage proposal from him," she paused to smile, "however, I know that having been through all those challenges means that we'll be able to take whatever life throws at us in the future, that it has prepared us far more than had we just lived happily ever after...after we had sex on his pool table."

"What did he ever do with that thing?" Gus asked, trying to change the subject even though she knew her friend was right.

"I think he actually sold it to Flack's cousin," Lindsay replied, thinking that even though she sometimes missed that pool table and all that it represented, she wouldn't change one thing in her life.

Gus made a face, "not innocent, little Bobby."

"Have you known any of the Flack clan as innocent or little?" Lindsay joked. She looked like she was about to say something until her phone started buzzing. "Oh, good, EDNA finally has something for me, I gotta get back. Thanks for brunch, Gus, try to not have too much fun on your time off!"

Gus stood, giving her friend a hug, "how can I when all of y'all are working?"

* * *

Despite everyone else toiling away fighting crime, Gus managed to fill her days off. She reorganized her three tiny closets, office and bookshelves; telling herself she wasn't purposefully making space for Don's things, rather she just wanted to give him options, to let him know that she was emotionally and physically opening up for him. Which is why she also decided to repaint her living room from the robin's egg blue she had painted it shortly after she moved in almost five years before, switching it to a darker and more masculine tone with a hint of gray. She also spent hours cooking, knowing how busy life could get and how a sense of normalcy could easily be found with a simple home cooked meal and thus making enough to fill at least three or four freezers to distribute among the team. She also took the time to catch up with Billy, saddened to hear about the failing health of both Miss Loretta and Buela, though her friend seemed in good enough and accepting spirits and was also making plans to finally visit her around the holidays, something that brought her more joy than she ever thought. Stella was as swamped as the New York based team, and while she wasn't able to talk, they did exchange a flurry of emails and texts and Gus was able to discern that Billy had forced Stella out with a few of her 'gentleman callers'.

Needless to say a few days later, she was oscillating between rejuvenation and restlessness and her co-op underwent a transformation. Now she was waiting on Don, who had just wrapped up his latest case. It had sounded like a doozy, one involving two young women found dead in Central Park, something that had Brass chomping at the bit for them to close as quickly as possible. Gus energetically swung the door open as soon as she heard the first rap of Don's knuckles against the wood, leaving him looking at her with his head cocked. He stepped through the door, with a gym bag swung over his shoulder, she noted happily. Hopefully that meant he was at least planning on spending the night.

He looked around before stepping back to check the numbers on her door. "It says I'm in the right place, sunshine, but I ain't too sure," he remarked, stepping in with a dimpled smile as he took in all the changes. "Finally changed those girly blue walls, huh?" he remarked, recalling how Danny had teased her for the color years ago.

"Just wanted to mix things up," she said with a shrug, walking back toward the kitchen where she was heating him up a late dinner.

It was a couple of minutes before he joined her, leaning against the doorway, looking at her with raised eyebrows, "there something you not telling me, babe?"

"Hmm?" she replied, noncommittal, pulling a beer from the fridge for him, twisting the cap off before handing it to him.

He thanked her and took a long drink before continuing. It had been a long and weird case and he still wasn't entirely convinced it hadn't been poison ivy he walked through in the middle of the park and now he was trying to interpret Gus' redecorating. "You aren't planning on pulling an okey doke, are you sunshine? Leaving town in the middle of the night?" he asked it with a smile on his face, but Gus could see worry in his eyes.

Gus pulled a dish from the oven, "my running days are behind me, hon, I promise."

He still didn't look convinced, "then why the empty bookshelves?"

"Same reason for the empty drawers in the bedroom and hangers in the closet," she replied, trying to seem nonchalant. She went about fixing him a plate of food, moving around him to place it on the table.

Don felt himself torn between pressing her with more questions and diving in to the food Gus had set before him that was making him salivate. "Dig in," she prodded. He complied and Gus took a seat beside him, taking a drink of the wine she had poured for them both, having already eaten herself hours before.

"I just know we talked about leaving some stuff at each other's place, so I cleared some room and here, these are yours." She handed him the keys she had cut and tried to keep her tone light, though that was ruined when Don started coughing, taking a drink to clear his throat.

"Some stuff, you cleared out more space than when I actually lived here!" Don remarked, slipping the keys into his pocket before taking in Gus' glass suspended in midair and the deer in headlights look in her eyes. "Sunshine, is this your way of asking me to move in again?"

Now it was her turn to start coughing, she took a long drink, refilling her glass, suddenly entranced with its bouquet, saying more into her glass than to him, "I did say I missed living with you."

Don took a deep breath, setting down his knife and fork, wiping at his mouth. The act of him stopping eating was what made Gus' heart speed up. "I love you, Gussie, I do, I swear," he said, setting both his palms flat on the table.

"But?" she said, setting her glass down carefully, unable to look directly at him.

He moved his chair closer to her, laying a hand on her knee, "Gus, look at me," he demanded. She hesitated for a moment before complying, forcing tears to not fill her eyes, wondering how she had misread things. "I love you with all my heart, but I meant what I said before, about being all in for good, so that's why I can't move back in, not right now."

Confusion danced across her face, not leaving even as he brushed a thumb over it. "Don, you're going to have to break this down for me, because I hear what you are saying, however it isn't making sense."

He took another deep breath, removing his hand from her face. "I know where I'm at, Gus, I just am not sure you're in the same space yet-" she started to cut him off in protest, but he held up his hand, "I know you love me, sunshine, I don't ever doubt that, but I also know all of what you have been through, well, your entire life. I know you dealt with a lot of demons over the past few months, and I know from personal experience that you don't just snap your fingers and are done with them. So I'm not going to let you rush yourself into anything and end up like before."

"Don, I've known you for five years, this isn't rushing anything, we've lived together before, this isn't anything new, I just don't get it!" she implored, sounding desperate.

"Look, I love falling asleep next to you and waking up the same way, and I want to do that for the rest of my life, I know you are it for me, what's it that stupid show you watch calls it, my person, you are my person and I like to think I'm yours, but I need you to know that, with everything, no running, no changing your mind, no breaking my heart."

Gus closed her eyes for a moment, "forever and ever, amen, got it, and that's what I'm saying too. I am tired of running, I came back here because this is where I wanted to be, where I am supposed to be. I know I've messed things up between us in the past, I know I've blown some big chances, but I thought you had forgiven me, I thought we were moving on!"

"I have forgiven you," he threaded his fingers through hers, though Gus had to fight to not pull her hand away, feeling wounded as she was. "And I like to think you have forgiven yourself, and I know I told you to stop counting chances, they don't matter. I just want us to take some time to be, sunshine, in our own spaces, figuratively and literally, with maybe a couple of changes of clothes," he smiled at her, "and keys."

"And I'm just supposed to pretend this makes sense?" Gus shot back, knowing he wasn't going to back down and while still wounded, relieved that his main point still seemed to be that he loved her.

Don raised his eyebrows, "I've spent five years with you making sense about half the time, you can give me this."

This brought a smile to her face, "true that, fine, Don, I'll give you this. Even if it doesn't make a lick of sense. But don't think I am spending time moving all those books and stuff around again, I do have to go back to work tomorrow." She paused, looking gravely serious again, "there is one thing I can't forgive though, Don."

"What's that?" he replied, the tables turned and now he was the one looking worried.

"Letting my jambalaya go to waste," she answered with a big grin, pointing at his half-eaten dish.

* * *

"Just can't catch a break, huh?" Don said to his buzzing cell phone, trying to slip quietly out of bed, groaning as he glanced at the clock. While he and Gus hadn't talked much more after he finished eating, at least not about anything more heavy than the crazy cases they had been working, they had stayed up watching television, curled up together on her sofa. He then found himself lying next to her peacefully slumbering form unable to find sleep himself, ruminating over how he had handled things the night before. He knew he hadn't entirely made sense to Gus, he hadn't been able to put his thoughts and feelings into words, something in which she was so adept and he often felt like a failure at. He hoped he had conveyed to her how much he loved her, he didn't want her to doubt that for a second. It wasn't that he didn't want to spend the rest of his life with her, he did. Don had contemplated their future together and it had become increasingly clear to him that he wanted to ask her to marry him again, he just wanted to make sure it stuck this time. He had even run through scenarios, ones more fitting of her and them than his previous attempts, he had spent plenty of time sitting at his desk when waiting on a case to move forward contemplating the perfect proposal, one she couldn't say no to. He had even retrieved his grandmother's ring from the safety deposit box he had placed it in over three years ago.

Yet, he hadn't moved forward. Don needed assurance that Gus was truly committed to them, for the long haul. He knew he couldn't utter those vows and not mean them, wouldn't put himself or his children through the same kind of ordeal that he had been through growing up. Don didn't have any tangible reason to believe the two of them would repeat the sins of his parents fractured marriage, but he still felt uncertain. He also knew without a doubt that he was done playing, if nothing else he had grown up fully since Jess' death and had a clear sense of what he wanted out of life, and so he wasn't going to settle for shacking up with Gus, it was 'I do' or bust. But he didn't want to give her ultimatums, that wasn't fair, and he was determined to be fair. He also had faith, what little faith was left in him, that he would get there and she would get there and they would get as close to happy ever after as they could. Though for now, he needed to figure out whose happy ever after had been cut short.

After getting the gory details, Don crept back into the bedroom to grab his bag. Gus let out her own groan, flinging one arm over her eyes. "Let me guess, duty calls?" she grumbled.

He kissed her on the forehead, "yep. Body in the water, connected to Carver."

"Assistant Chief Carver?" Gus said, flinging her arm off her face and pulling herself to a sitting position.

"One in the same, so, gotta go. I meant what I said last night, sunshine, keep that in mind, would ya?"

Gus slumped back in bed as soon as he left wondering what part was she supposed to keep in mind, the part where he said she was his person or the part where he refused to move in with her?


	10. And We're Fine?

**Chapter 10 And We're Fine **

**_(A/N: Or are we *evil laughter*? Not a lot of cases the next few chapters, NaNoWriMo and reading Pam's interview about the never going to happen 200th episode reminded me that this was always the most character driven on the series and thus I am focusing on the myriad of relationships (not just romantic) that occur in my CSI:NY world. Happy reading)_**

* * *

Gus was eminently relieved that she was heading back into work that day, so she wasn't able to dissect every word, gesture, facial expression and so on from Don during last night's less than rewarding conversation. She knew it wouldn't do her any good, but that still didn't stop the nagging feeling in her gut. It must have shown on her face because Lampole immediately remarked, "you either had a really good or really bad couple of days off, Broussard."

She merely shrugged and went over to the board to see if there were any cases awaiting assignment, desperately wanting to dive into something where she could feel useful and hopefully solve something. "Slow day, huh, Alex?" she said to Ramirez who came over to erase a case, moving it to the solved column.

"Slow week. That's a good thing, Gus. Usually a bit of a slump after Halloween, through Thanksgiving, it will pick up around the holidays. Kinda like homicide: the least wonderful time of year in our profession," he paused, looking at her, "for a woman who just had a few days off, you don't look very well rested."

Gus made a face, "I'm fine, just need coffee."

He gave her a look that plainly said he didn't believe her but wasn't going to press the issue. "Sure you do. Well have at it then, just brewing a fresh pot, knew you were coming back in."

Gus stood staring at the coffee still dripping into the pot, lost in thought, trying to not ruminate. How could Don not know she was sure? Was he doubting her or _them_? She jumped slightly when Doyle said behind her, "didn't mean to scare you. You know it's pause and pour, you don't have to wait there worshipping at the altar."

She turned giving him a false smile, "sorry about that, was off in la la land."

He raised his eyebrows but unlike Ramirez, he pressed on. "Uh-huh, don't forget I know you, kid, what's going on?"

Gus narrowed her eyes slightly, "while I am aware you outrank me, Doyle, stop pretending that you are an old fogey and knock it off with that kid thing." Her words came out icier than she intended. "Crap, Jimmy, I'm sorry, apparently I had a bowl of bitch flakes this morning."

With the smallest shake of his head, he moved to pour them both mugs, pulling a carton of real cream from the fridge, "out with it, ki-, Gus," he corrected.

"Thanks," she replied, taking the creamer as she looked around, not wanting to talk out in the open. She knew how quickly things could spread around the precinct, a couple of floors didn't matter, look how far the betting pools had extended on her and Don's relationship so far.

Doyle picked up on her discomfort, giving her a small smile before stepping out and saying loudly, "I mean it, Broussard, I want a full debriefing in my office in five minutes!"

"In trouble already, Broussard?" "Uh-oh, guess who's getting called to the principal's office." "Someone should have taken an extra day." Gus ignored the teasing as she strode to her desk, picking up files to use as a prop, grateful that Doyle had given her an excuse. "Surely there are some cold cases y'all could be working on?" she said to them, before closing the door to Doyle's office behind her. "Nice cover," she said with a slight smirk, dropping her stack of files on one chair and sinking into the other.

"I do what I can. Now spill. I like to think I know you well enough to know that you doing the thousand-yard stare thing at the coffee maker is not a good thing." He leaned forward, resting his arms on his desk, closing the space between them.

Gus became entranced with the manicure she decided to get after ruining her nails painting. The conservative taupe varnish seemed too subdued for her personality, though it now seemed a great match for her mood. Doyle just waited her out, patiently sitting back and crossing his arms over his chest. She knew she'd been had, he could sit there all day, something she had learned while they were on stakeouts together. "I thought I was doing everything right!" she finally implored.

"This isn't because I sent you home, is it? It isn't you, Gus, I swear, the Brass is up my ass about hours worked, some garbage about compassion fatigue and burnout rates some nitwit researcher did on the West Coast, like we're the same as some bunch of tree-hugging, granola eaters."

Gus let out something between a snort and a laugh. "Watch it, Jimmy, or you'll turn into Daddino. I think that is the first time you've ever really sounded like a Loo." She paused, mirroring his posture, "this isn't about you sending me home, at least not exactly." He continued to wait, but did raise his eyebrows. "I'm sorry I didn't keep in touch with you after the Steele case, I was a little ticked you went over my head to get me benched and things with Don got really bad really quick and the next thing I knew I was on a plane to New Orleans for six months. I know you reached out to me, but I just...couldn't deal with it, not while I was trying to figure out what was going on with me and distance myself from Don. And you're correct, I did what I do so well, I threw myself into trying to right thousands of wrongs by sorting out their cold cases. It was bad, really bad," she paused to take a breath and a drink of coffee.

"I can't even imagine," Doyle replied, wondering where she was going with this, but willing to let her talk it out.

Gus nodded, stoically, "nobody can. While I was sorting things out, I came across information about my parents' murder, things I didn't know before and I kinda...solved it." She looked up at him sheepishly.

Doyle got up from behind his desk and went to sit beside her, "and how is that not a great thing, kid, I mean...Detective Broussard?"

"It isn't a good thing because I figured out it was a serial killer that murdered them. The same killer that this close to being in charge of a big chunk of the NOPD, including Stella and her new lab."

"What do you mean this close?" Doyle prodded when she didn't continue.

"The wife of his dead former partner, also NOPD, pumped him full of lead," Gus shrugged, rather nonchalantly.

Doyle shook his head, "okay, I can see how that might stick with you, though I am getting the feeling that isn't what all this is about," he said, making his face a blank mask.

Gus rolled her eyes, "thanks, Jimmy. You're right, it isn't. Don came down there, supposedly because he loved me, because he wanted me back in New York and in his life. He helped me solve the case and I sort of almost got him drowned in a hurricane in the process. We promised to leave all of our ghosts behind us, down there in the swamp."

"Let me guess, one of you keeps getting haunted?" Doyle said, fighting the urge to reach out and touch her, knowing it wasn't appropriate.

Gus rubbed at her forehead, "more like both of us. I just can't figure out if it they are old ghosts or new ones. I thought we were going to come back and be stronger than ever. Then I suggest that he move back in with me and he refuses; says he wanted us to just be, he gives me some line about being worried I am going to change my mind again. Says some crap about him being all in and wanting to know I am too!"

"Are you?" Doyle asked, hoping the question didn't sound weighted. He knew she and Flack had a long and complicated history, he also knew that Gus had been in love with Don Flack every day he had known her, whether the pair had been together or not.

"Yes, I am, I have been. I know I messed up before, running away from him. Things are different now, I want different things from life, no, scratch that, I finally believe I can have different things in life, that I'm not cursed, that I can be happy. Except now I'm starting to think that I was wrong about being wrong!" She heaved a sigh of frustration, catching her hair and working it through her fingers like she might tear it out.

This time Doyle did reach out, catching her hand and pulling it away from her hair, giving it a slight squeeze before setting it down. "Hence the thousand-yard stare? Makes sense."

"Good for you, can you explain it to me then?" Gus huffed, practically sitting on her hands so she didn't tug at her hair again.

"Gus, I've known you for a while now, we spent a lot of hours stuck in a car together and, well, you were there and while I am divorced and my wife may have run away upstate to live on a commune, I do know a couple of things about love, and you love Flack. You have every day I have known you."

She flung up her hands, "then why is he being like this? We've lived together before!"

Doyle stared her down, clearing his throat, "as I was saying, I know love, but I also know about commitment, and what it means to have something you thought was going to last a lifetime crumble in front of you. You ever think that to Flack shacking up isn't enough, that when he says he wants to be all in, he's telling you he wants to marry you?"

"Then why doesn't he just ask?" Gus implored.

"How has that worked out for him before? Can you blame him for wanting to make sure you're sure?" Doyle asked, a slight smile on his face, at least until Gus glared at him.

"Glad this is so funny for you, Jimmy. We said we were setting the past aside, maybe that isn't possible. Maybe he won't ever truly get over me turning him down or running away or..." she trailed off before quietly finishing with, "Jess."

Doyle took a deep breath, "maybe he won't, you can't let that stop you from being happy in the here and now though, can you? Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, but today is a gift. That is why it is called the present."

"Did you just quote _Kung Fu Panda _at me, Jimmy?"

"Sue me, I only have basic cable, now get the hell out of my office and get back to solving cases, Broussard."

* * *

Gus was working on just that when her phone started buzzing in the middle of one of her interviews. Seeing it was the lab and hoping it was some DNA results she was waiting on. She was working on nailing a scumbag she was leaning on to the wall, so she answered it with a commanding bark, "Broussard!"

"Gus?" came a honey-suckled voice.

"Er, Jo?" Gus asked, already rising out of her seat, "wait right here," she said to the man sitting at the interview table. "Aren't DNA results a little below your pay grade?"

Jo gave a short, hollow bark of a laugh, "yes, they are. Well you see, honey, there's been a little incident."

Gus felt her world start to tilt, reaching out to touch the wall to steady herself. Panic was already starting to rise in her chest, "define incident, Jo!" she demanded.

This caught the attention of the others in the pit, Ramirez knocked on the glass of Doyle's office, he emerged and upon taking in Gus' expression rushed toward her. "Gus?"

She held up a finger listening to Jo's explanation about how Don went to go pick up a guy for questioning in the Parker/Gomez case and ended up with a black eye, a laceration on his cheek and a couple of broken ribs; and being Flack, was still working. "Of course he is still questioning Mitchell Barett, always has to play the superhero!" Gus snapped, shaking her head. She hung up the phone angrily, still visibly shaken.

"This the guy from the pub case?" Doyle asked, pointing into the interview room.

"Yeah, Trip Norris. Just wanting on DNA, admits to being there earlier in the night, but he didn't tab out until after midnight and street cams have him following the vic."

"Then let him stew, kid, you go check on your man," Doyle said, squeezing her shoulder, "call me if you need me, Broussard."

Gus rushed down to homicide, pacing as she waited for Don to emerge from the interview room.

* * *

"He's fine, Princess, a couple of scratches, that's all" Parker said, trying to get her to stop her from wearing tracks in the floor.

Gus made a noise, "based on whose professional opinion? I'm betting he wouldn't even let the EMTs look at him!"

"You're one to talk," Parker sniffed.

Further discussion was cut off as Don emerged from the interview room, looking battered and frustrated. He looked at her with slight surprise. "What are you doing down here?" he asked.

"Why wouldn't I be down there, I get a call from Jo telling me about some incident and here you got shot at and-" Gus realized her raised voice was garnering stares. She took a deep breath and more growled than said, "roof, now!"

The elevator was crowded on their way up, but Gus could still see Don trying to hold himself so he didn't get jostled, his ribs obviously tender and he was clenching his jaw in either pain or anger, or maybe both. Gus hit the bar on the door to the roof with more force than required, nearly falling over the threshold. Don reached out to steady her, a groan escaping his lips as he stretched further than his injuries would allow. "I'm fine, Don, it's you I'm worried about," Gus replied, barely stopping herself from pulling him in an embrace that would just exacerbate his pain.

"It's nothing," he replied, brushing her off and walking over to the edge and looking out at the city below, acrimony coursing throughout his body, tensing his muscles.

She moved beside him, "that isn't nothing," she said, pointing at the cut on his cheek, "it needs a butterfly closure and you should check to make sure you don't have any fractures other than the ones in your ribs, and don't tell me those are fine because I damn well know from experience they are not!" Gus tried to control her temper, she knew it was rooted in fear. "Forget that, I know you, Don, what is eating at you?" she asked.

Don clenched and unclenched his jaw, Barett's callousness making his blood boil."This guy says he was fulfilling a promise, that he told Marcella Gomez if she ever ran away from him he would kill her. Piece of crap, wish he hadn't put his gun down!"

"Good thing I only ran away from you then," Gus joked, thought it fell flat as Don grunted, then clutched his ribs. "Crap, hon, I'm sorry, I shouldn't even joke, it's just-" she stopped, not wanting to reveal her discussion with Doyle. "I love you, more than anything, and when Jo called my heart stopped and-" Gus couldn't stop the tears from welling up in her eyes.

Don pulled her to him, ignoring the pain radiating through his ribcage from where Barett's size 12 had landed. "I'm fine, sunshine, really. We knew he was a dirtbag, we vested up, we took precautions."

"Look at you!" Gus said into his chest, sniffling, "and I wasn't there," she finished, pulling back from him and wiping her eyes and nose.

"Ah," he said nodding.

"Ah?"

Don nodded down at her, "you think I didn't feel this way when I got that call from Doyle, where you actually were hurt? That I don't worry about you every day you head up to special vics without me? But even if you had been there, you couldn't have stopped anything, Barett is a maniac, and no amount of trying to talk him down would have stopped him from throwing you across the room like a rag doll, Gus!"

Gus stared at him, trying to put her feelings into words, something that was normally so easy for her. She finally just came out with, "just watch your back out there, alright, Flack?"

"I am, sunshine, promise, and Danny's got my back too," he paused, "he knows you would kill him if anything happened to me."

"Damn straight I would," Gus replied, with a slight smile, looking down at her buzzing phone. "I gotta go, my DNA results are finally in on a rape case I'm working. Let me guess, this case is still going?"

Don gave her a dimpled grin, "how'd ya know? Just because Barett admitted to killing Marcella, still doesn't meant we know who killed Ronnie Parker and Mac has his sights on Carver."

"One day Mac will learn to play nice with Brass," Gus quipped.

"Yeah, about ten years after he retires." He gave her a quick kiss, "I'm sure you will wrap up first, I'll let you know when I can escape." Gus just nodded. "Don't look so worried, babe. I am fine and I love you."

"Love you too, see you 'round," Gus replied, rushing away, still feeling a slight sense of disquietude.

* * *

Gus arrived back in special vics after a stop at the lab to get the proof she needed to hopefully get her suspect singing like a bird. Doyle gave her a look when she stepped back into the pen. "He's fine, more or less, not slowing down."

"You two are made for each other," Doyle remarked, recalling how she tried to jump out of her hospital bed both times he had seen her in one.

Gus shot him a look, "hoping so. Now let's got tell this asshole we have him dead to rights on the Katie Morrison case, DNA doesn't lie."

Doyle could tell that Gus was still ruminating over either their talk or Flack getting hurt; or more likely, both. She tore into their suspect like a lioness stalking her prey. Her normal patient empathy that suspects inevitably fell for vanished, replaced with a fire that had Doyle surreptitiously kicking her under the table and having to fall into the unfamiliar role of good cop.

"Whatever, wave your science at me all you want, I'm not talking to this bitch anymore," Norris sneered, "though she might benefit from me doing something else with her."

Doyle sensed her coiling before she struck, cutting her off at the pass. "Broussard, go take a walk, let me and Trip have a little man to man chat." She narrowed her eyes at him, knowing it was probably the best thing for her, though she still didn't like being kicked out.

Gus fumed from the other side of the observation glass, watching as Doyle talked Norris down and into a corner, getting at least enough of a confession out of him to please the DA. "Think you can handle getting him processed?" Doyle asked as he exited the room with a now handcuffed Norris. Gus nodded, "my pleasure, and I would think twice before you make a retort to that, Mr. Norris," she said, half dragging him toward booking.

* * *

Thanks to having made plenty of friends in booking, probably thanks to making lots of baked goods, Gus had Trip Norris off her hands pretty quickly and was back up to the pen before long. She headed straight to her desk to finish up her paperwork, hating leaving it undone for the next day, knowing that it could easily pile up as new cases opened.

Doyle, however, had other ideas. "Paperwork will keep, Gus, pack it in. Chill out, do something fun, stop being a cop for the night." She started at him, her mouth a straight line. "Not asking, Broussard. I need you to be perp whisperer Broussard, not taking their damn heads off, I have Ramirez and Worley for that!"

She drummed her fingers on her desk, emotions still flooding her, knowing he was right, she needed to step back. "Fine, but I'm coming in first thing to finish up and I don't want to hear it if Brass gets on your back about paperwork."

"It's after 6 on a Friday, Gus, Brass isn't here. Go home, no wait, go out, go be a girl or something," he said, knowing what might happen if she cloistered herself in her place.

Fate must have been on Doyle's side because her phone immediately started ringing, Lindsay's face appearing on the screen. "That's just scary, Jimmy," she said, showing him the screen before answering, "Hey, Linds."

"Oh, Gus, good! Are you still working your case?" Lindsay asked, a slight tinge of worry in her voice.

Gus perked up, catching her friend's tone. "Just wrapped up, what's wrong? Danny didn't get hurt more than Don said he did, right?"

Lindsay smiled into the phone, "he's fine, or stubbornly working, just like Don. The thing is, we are knee-deep in this Parker case and Jo is worried about Mac going after Carver and so it is all hands on deck and Lucy's daycare is about to close and Mama Messer has the flu, or at least she claims so..."

"No problem, Linds, I'm on it, I would love nothing better than to get some Lucy time in."

"Perfect! You are a life saver, our super said he'll let you in, I really need to get you a key," she said, adding it to her to-do list.

"That seems to be going around," Gus mused.


End file.
